Zack wasn't aware he was holding a shapeshifter and not a cat. The thought hadn't even occurred to him. And as he held Roman, his breathing, which had become rather uneven, slowly calmed. He hadn't cried yet, and perhaps just not being alone helped, but soon enough he'd let Roman down again, sighing as he stood up and tossed the one empty can, leaving the one he had yet to finish on the floor for the cat.

He glanced around the kitchen for himself, suddenly not very hungry and moved towards his bedroom, intent on grabbing his 'safety blanket'.

Said safety blanket leaned against the wall as usual, the large sword almost bigger than Zack himself, and he grabbed it, carrying it carefully into the living room, collapsing on the couch to rest the cool metal against his forehead and just breathe. Funny how the only thing he ever really prayed to was a man he had killed himself.