A lanky pale teen slowly made his way through the halls, his hands in the pockets of the pants that were two sizes to big for him and his posture slightly slouched, with a guard walking a bit ahead of him. The teen's face was utterly blank, no sign of joy nor sorrow, as he was walked into what appeared to be a dinning room. He then made his way to a chair, took a seat and continued to look dead ahead of him with out a word. This may of seem bizarre to others, but this was the norm when it came to Slade.