Walter understands reclusive. In one timeline, he spent three years in his lab, unless absolutely necessary. It was strange how the memories of that time were still fading, but there were things he knew he'd never forget, like the absolute uninterest terror of even thinking about setting foot outside the safety of his makeshift home. Yes, he knew reclusive. He wonders, as he walks, if this man has gone to such extremes.

The man's laboratory instantly makes Walter feel more relaxed, because it's familiar territory, even if he knows through the feel of the floor under his feet, the smell of particular levels of ozone, the taste of violet on the tip of his tongue, that it is not his own space. He'd never find that again.

He's impressed by the man's smooth English, and with only a slight pause of hesitation--one held over from the other self, the part of him that is fading--he reaches out and shakes the scientist's hand.

"Good to meet you. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your work, Doctor." He's already forgotten the man's name... pity.