Malcolm was floating in the middle of his cell -- at least, his consciousness was, lying back and purposefully trying to imagine that it was a cloud he was sitting on. Yes... very relaxing, that was the intention. Too much stress would kill a person or worse, wake them up. He didn't dare try and spy outside the cell, not since the guards seemed to be on high alert and so was content just to drift off...

Then they barged in anyway -- had there been a speaker announcement? -- and cuffed his sleeping physical form. Oh no, not [i]those[/i] again. He snapped back into his body with a sickening click heard only by him, his free spirit trying to wriggle free once again but failing. Blood thrummed in his body in an uncontrollable panic of being trapped even as they shoved him along the corridors (where he nearly hit his head on a doorframe) and outside in the courtyard. 

He seemed to be one of the last ones there, presumably because they couldn't drag his unconscious body outside without a mind to control it. As it was, he couldn't help but asked, "Why am I cuffed? What are we all doing out here?" He yawned.