[centre][color=Silver][h1][u]Grant Hyral[/u][/h1][/color]
[color=Gold][sub]Wall Rose - Training Grounds[/sub][/color]
[img]https://happyhourgang.files.wordpress.com/2017/02/border.png[/img][/centre]

	Grant watched as everyone left, and by that, it left him to himself and himself only. No one else was around, really. No one was nearby, everyone had split off into their own little splinter groups, leaving Grant standing where he was, all alone. This was something that Grant hated, being left alone in the midst of what could be chaos: A beating from an instructor or a simple embarrassment of being left behind would do the trick nicely. Grant hated a lot of things like this, because apart from Olivia, he hadn't really gone into the Cadets with anyone he knew perfectly. There was no Mateo to keep him company, now that he was back in service with the Survey Corps. Everyone was able to get into a social groove very easily, which was something that took the outer-wall kid time to get used to.

	Come to think of it, Grant had never really discussed where he was from to anyone, not even the likes of Olivia or Reese. But that was something he couldn't help doing. Seeing Shiganshina fall in such a paced fashion made him lose hope to the little houses he once grew up within. They weren't safe. They weren't alive, no doubt. But what could he do? All he could do was find a way to keep himself occupied in the world that would come to the uses of any individuals. Grant was a misfit, in all honesty. Only there to add comedic value to any conversation, he felt almost casted out from most groups of individuals, no matter how sociable he tried and seemed like he was being. And the fact he was now left alone in the middle of an empty area seemed to get to him quite badly. He quickly began to pace around, fumbling within his pockets.

	He felt something in his breast pocket, a papery envelope. It must have been the last letter Mateo sent before the mail-line was temporarily cut off due to the advantages Grant was taking from it. Standing out in the open didn't make him feel comfortable with reading it aloud or in plain sight, especially if Schulz was lurking around every corner. He waited a good few minutes, possibly more, before he started to head over to the cabin he was designated for.

	By the time he reached it, the last person was exiting, heading towards where he presumed was the mess hall. Everyone was already hungry, no surprises said there. Grant still wasn't prioritising food at that moment, and wandered into the cabin he hadn't seen yet. The dormitory was quite small, basic and military-standard-like, so it all met his expectations of what it was anyway. He looked around, looking for the neatest bunk that had been left untouched by anyone's belongings or body prints from where they might've laid down for a minute or two. Once more, he scanned his surroundings, before placing his backside down onto the thin sheets of the bedding he had. Once again, he took out the folded up paperwork, unravelling it to find out what he was sent last. It was indeed a letter from Mateo, who else would it be from? No one was nice enough to send him anything, if he had known them.

	He continued to read the first inking of the papers, with a difference in what it usually stated. Most of his letters started out jovial and extravagant, but this one was different. Something had happened...Something bad had happened...He kept reading, and sure enough, that gut instinct was completely right about what was being written down...
[hr]

	Grant eventually, miles later than any other cadet, stumbled into the Mess Hall. His face didn't carry on the usual grin that he'd walk around with, as he kept on shuffling inside. As he entered, he stopped, and leant against the door-frame for a few moments. He looked ahead, seeing the small and large groups of different cadets, familiar and new faces alike, chanting away greetings at one another. It looked nice, really nice...But with Grant being late under circumstances he discovered himself, he felt like there wasn't anything to be overly jovial about. Obviously, Grant wasn't the one to keep the mood completely down, but when there was the slightest difference in his stature, those who knew him would be able to deduce a presence of issue within a small fraction of time.

	He stared, looking at some of those who he saw being shouted at by Schulz not too long ago in the day. They were all similar ages to one another, most of whom were similar heights. Different tones in voice, different pitching. All these differences, and yet they seemed to mix quite well with each other. But all of them had different qualities, something Grant was not always used to going through. Spending all his time with a horse and an Uncle, even Grant had found it hard to get used to Luca...The thought crossed his mind of the name, before he almost sank where he stood.

	He continued leaning against the door frame, only staring at what was ahead of him. Even in the dark minutes he had just experienced, he had to try and find some-way to push forwards. It'd probably be the determination he had that would kill him in the end...