Somehow, his brain processes the sound of seams tearing before he recognizes it coming from his own clothes, sleeves beginning to split right down the middle, and Wanda's voice is a lingering echo in his ears as he turns on her - no, please no, don't hurt her -

"You'll still be in one piece," he utters, guttural, breathing heavily - and then, without any warning, lashing out on the final syllable with a fist that collides with the wall behind her, mere inches from her head.