Strange took in everything before him as quickly as he could, making silent revisions in his mind. He'd have to make some earth-currency when he got the chance, and buy more culturally acceptable clothing-- he couldn't currently waste his magic on aesthetics, after all. There would be a larger use for it soon enough. 

Strange opened his eyes, which he had shut in his meditation of events, with the questions and remarks of everyone gathered fully analyzed in his head. He responded as properly as he could, turning to face the twenty-four year-old brunette next to him first. He looked down at her, putting name to face as a cool breeze wafted against his hat, causing it to dance slightly against his scalp. He smiled at her --warmly, he hoped-- and reached for the napkin in her hands. [i]Leone.[/i]

Strange played with the napkin in his hands, turning it over and basking in the residual magic that he had charged into it. He smiled again. [b]"Yes. I do."[/b]

He didn't have much time, perhaps only a half hour at best, but hopefully he could make it work. Sand began to kick up into the air of Central Park, from underneath the grey pavement, floating loosely into the atmosphere like scraps of paper tossed carelessly away. It was a small thing, maybe even unnoticeable to everyone; Strange, however, knew what it signified. He turned, facing everyone else, pushing his presence against theirs in a collision of minds, trying to coerce them into hearing him. 

[b]"I need you all."[/b] He began, his voice thick and deep and heavenly, [b]"The [i]world[/i] needs you all. I do not know that you all believe in God, or that you believe in goodness over evil, just as I do not know why I decided the world needed you over the many others just as qualified. However, I [i]can[/i] assure you of two things. The first is that you will be rewarded. To some, this is a job; to others, this is nothing but a waste of time; to none, however, is this unimportant. You are all affected. And you will all be rewarded, because...well, I believe the young Smith has the proper earthly opinion of all of this. It is closest to what the magical community calls a 'job'. Thusly, you will be gifted for your help."[/b]

Strange's face turned slightly hard as he continued, but a deeper glance would reveal regret and remorse. He had to use magic to keep himself from crying (the one physiological aspect of his body he couldn't yet control).

[b]"I apologize for drawing you all into this, and I know that you may all laugh at my words of a dying world. Perhaps it is because my attire is what you all would call "groovy". Or at least, I believe that would be the proper terminology. Nevertheless, this brings me to my second point. Whether you believe me or not, whether you were enticed or not; it does not matter. Your age does not matter. I was forced to choose, and I chose you. By coming here you've accepted this 'job'. You cannot decline, as it is not up to me. You may try to leave, but at the eleventh o'clock it will begin."[/b]

It was 10:30 now. Strange did not know how or why, but time seemed to have passed quicker as he gave his speech. 

Rather, as he gave everyone their death sentence.