Zach's eyes flick down to the bottle in the dirt, then back up to Hazel's face; he doesn't bug her about it. Everything is clearly not okay, at least, not with her, and he's not sure how much to let go and how much to pry. The eternal dilemma. He wants to ask her if there's something particular on her mind, or if she was just worn down by the endless feeling of something's-coming-nothing-good that sat heavy on so many of them these days, but... then he remembers Sam's accidentally-unwarded message and he swallows his words, afraid of being smothering.

But... then again... Zach wiggles, indecision manifesting as restlessness. When he does reply, the words come tumbling out of his mouth a little, like gumballs out of a machine. "I wish I knew what was coming. Or some way of... preparing... something. I feel so useless."

Oh no, he's only started talking about his concerns as a way of getting Hazel to open up and relate, but now he was getting dangerously close to burdening his friend instead of helping her. He really was an awful prefect.