Taking one of the sharper and sturdier pieces of kindling, Strange stabs it through the nug to serve as a makeshift spit. Gesturing to the pile of kindling, Strange starts to mutter under his breath. From the inside of the stack, a small flame appears and starts to grow outwards until it's a serviceable sized flame, large enough for roasting the nug on.

"There we go," Strange mutters, with a little sigh. Carefully, he scoots a little closer, holding the nug in the fire in an attempt to get the damn thing roasted as quickly as possible.

"Fire's simple," he explains, watching his dinner carefully. "Of course, some of the other mages from the Spire prided themselves on fire as a specialty, but even those who didn't focus on that element could at least manipulate it somewhat."