Walter didn't know what to expect. Henry had stood up to the worst of his worlds but was always so calm and almost stoic. The feral scream that came from him was never something he would have predicted and the lunge caught him off guard.

He gasped - as a ghost he had felt nothing, everything dulled by a lack of body, of senses to provide feedback on if the wind was in his hair, if there was fresh blood on his skin, if bullets were burying into his form. Now he felt it all, Henry's hands turned into claws and grasping at his neck, his unbroken neck, and Walter attempted to catch them, to pull them away from him, trying to step away from Henry.

At his feet Assumption's gaze had become fearful, clutching onto Walter's trouser leg and given a confused cry. What was happening? Walter talked about the Receiver so...so nicely, like he liked him. Why was the Receiver attacking him?

"Henry, I'm not going to hurt you here-!"