Strange is certainly the odd one out in this little ragtag group, and Shura is completely unconvinced by Strange's reassurances. However, this is different than the Long Night, and it wasn't like he was completely defenseless. It doesn't hurt that death only mattered so much at this point.

Shura eyes the fabric in Strange's hand, pulling up the loose scarf around her neck to cover the lower half of her face. Some kind of enchanted item? Well, obviously. She doubts that he'll keep its effects a secret from the rest of the group.

"We all fought back then, you know." Maybe not directly, but somehow or other. Shura doesn't mind letting him know that no one is going to be impressed.