When Albus slowly pulled himself from Zacharias's mind, he'd hoped he mind be able to leave there the traces of Gellert's magic that seemed all too drawn to his own. But, no. It lingered. It settled under his skin, and once he was free of Zacharias's mind, his ability to preserve the partitions in his mind failed. All he wanted to do was claw his way back to someplace private and try to free himself of the way Gellert's presence seemed to permeate his mind. Every scrap of this, however, he kept carefully concealed.
His exhaustion, he wore plainly enough. It took him a moment to put meaning to the words out of Zach's mouth-- the echos of him around Albus's consciousness still rebounding slightly.
As he settled back a bit, taking a steadying breath. "It should pass-- like regaining surety of step after too much time on a boat, it will take some adjusting," Albus attempted to explain. It was a guess, more or less, but one in which he felt confident. If someone was going to go wrong, it would have happened already. There would have been some indication of misfortune. Now, it was simply a matter of learning to observe, to recall, without feeling. Albus couldn't quite tell if he regretted imposing such a perspective on someone else, or if he wasn't just a bit envious of its totality in Zacharias's mind. For his own part, he rather craved a bit of emotional numbness. Wishing to discuss anything but Gellert, anything but what he had done to Zacharias, Albus asked, "Who is Lysander?"