[Zach hasn't made a network post in a while. In over a month, actually. The last time, he'd looked happy, had been ridiculous with Steph, doing a reading of Norfinbury's finest literature.
Right now, he looks gaunt, terrified, and sad when he shows up on camera. His coat swallows him up, and he's all hunched shoulders, not really looking at the camera. His eyes are still strange looking, the Prophet eyes still plaguing him. There's nobody with him in the frame.
He rubs a hand over his face, sighing loudly, before looking up at the camera.] So, if math is right and all, today - or yesterday, or tomorrow - is my birthday.
[He lets out a bitter chuckle.] Shoulda known that even my 21st would suck balls. Heyyyy, I can drink legally! I don't have anything to drink! Happy birthday to me!
[He holds a hand up in the air in a fake cheer, letting it drop back to his lap afterwards.] 'Nyway.
[Time to change the subject. He's got nothing good to actually say or offer, he's been way too lost in his own shit to think of what to do to help out on how to get out.] I've been thinking about trying to build my laser cannon back up, but I don't really know where to even start. What does one need to build a laser? Can anyone help?
[He's not actually looking hopeful in terms of getting an answer. He keeps on looking down at his hands like he's missing something, the back of them obviously scratched to bleeding. Someone is not at peak health, right now.]