The text hadn't been anything different than what Lydia normally gave him, simple and short, but everything felt... different. More than usual. Like something important was about to happen and it rattled through Zach's body, through his bones until he was near a wreck. He hadn't wasted time to go to Lydia's place, hand hovering over her door until he finally knocked. It sounded hollow, like Zach wasn't himself because he knew this wasn't necessarily a good meeting. Wasn't necessarily he wanted to know or hear, but Zach knew it had to do with him. What he was and he needed to know why he kept waking up covered in ash, why he was having nightmares about bodies and the Nemeton. So he waited for the ginger, his stomach nearly rolling.

Again, he had woken up covered in soot. Again, he knew he'd stolen a body or more and burnt them and Zach swallowed, a hand pushing through his hair. His plan to keep himself locked away hadn't worked and it made him angry, almost to the point of feeling foolish and he spun at the noise of someone walking up behind him. It's only then that he realized that he was naked, clothes burnt away and Zach tensed until he identified the person as Stiles. That... wasn't ideal, but it was better than most other people. At least he didn't hve to make up a reason with stiles; the boy would assume or would know.

"You wouldn't have anything for me to wear, would you?"

The iron bars of the jail cell had become his friends, in a way. His self-imposed imprisonment had been a throwaway idea that had come from nights of little sleep, but Zach had found it better than letting himself free. Than potentially making more problems by his inner creature's want to steal bodies. It isn't something Zach wants to be associated with and he settled more against the wall, looking over at Stiles, half tired and half curious. There's a question pulling at him, wanting to know how Stiles is involved in all of this more than just being Scott's best friend, but he holds it back.

"Do you think this will actually do anything for me?"

First encounters meant a lot to Zach which is why he tried to always make a good one, no matter the circumstances. Which is why he was back in front of Noah's house, an apology cup of coffee in his hand. The first meeting hadn't been bad exactly, but Zach still felt like an idiot. Of course someone would assume something was wrong if the police were at their house, especially if the police in question specifically started the conversation with saying nothing was wrong.

Definitely not one of Zach's smartest moments and it had lost him some sleep. Not much, but enough and the knock on the door from his hand is loud in the quiet of the neighborhood, the deputy shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited.

The ache of his lack of sleep is in his eyes, a pressure on the back of them that promises to turn into a headache before the end of the day. It doesn't help that Zach had left his sunglasses at home, neatly folded on his counter and it's the worst decision he's ever made except for his midnight wanderings, the ones that left him washing ash and soot down his shower drain at 4 AM. Not even sleeping pills kept him in bed when there were bodies that needed collected and Zach let out a near pitiful groan when he smacked into someone, too turned into his own thoughts and the grey tint to his shower to notice Harry.

"My coffee," the deputy said, staring at the sad remains of the black coffee draining from the cup and swirling around their feet. "I'm so sorry."