Dragging his bag across the floor behind him, Dalton slowly made his way into the furthest corner of the Common Room and flopped into a chair, dropping his bag to the floor underneath him. This 'trying' thing was HARD, man, and it was making him tired. All he wanted to do was was give up and stuff, and it was hardly like he'd done anything.

He'd barely even glanced at his homework, but turning up to lessons was difficult. When could he go home? He leant down and dug around in his backpack, pulling out the scruffy, crumpled copy of the comic Aled had sent to him only a few days ago. He should probably write back at some point soon, but he'd only written to Tristan a few weeks ago, and he needed to read the comic first.

Blerrrgh.