Finch laughs in answer-- a shaky, brittle noise. "Umm."

Bear whines a little, uncertain. Mercifully, Bear's doggy brain did not process this wall the same way, but the animal is still aware things are wrong, with his human, and this individual ahead smells-- strange.

It's easier to focus on Bear's unease than his own; Finch bends stiffly and gives the dog's head a brusque rub. It's a toss-up whether it comforts him or the dog more.

"You feel-- that-- too, then," Finch says, with a jerk of one hand backwards that carefully does not include any sort of actually looking at it, or even risking it. "How... how horrible. I think I'm walking this way, if you don't mind. Hier, Bear."

He starts a limping path back down the hall, currently wanting a lot of distance between him and the wall.