Peter's got those wolf-senses (thank you, God) on high alert, and even he is barely aware Henry's there until he is, and then he freezes, though less in surprise at being snuck up on than shock at that voice. For a moment he's afraid to turn, to look, because what if he's dreaming? What if it's some cruel trick of this place, or his own demented imagination?

But he can't not look, either, even if it breaks his heart when it's not real. When he dies turn, then, it's fast, reaching to grab Henry by the shoulders as stunned hope flickers in his gaze instead of the cunning of moments before.

"...Henry?" He swallows, because, gods, he's still here, and then he smiles, that oh-so-rare smile of his that isn't anything like his usual smirk. "Maybe this place isn't a fresh Hell after all..."