"This is fucked" stated the largish teenager on Nick's right, sitting back in his chair. His left eye was almost completely swollen shut, and his muscles were mostly covered in varies of ink.<br/><br/>"Rather be knitting, Mark?" Nick commented with a smirk, glimpsing up at the new face in the box. Running detention? Talk about bad luck.<br/><br/>Mark's eyes wandered to the glass box, and he let out a groan, rubbing at his cuffed wrist. "I Can hardly feel my hand" he whined, rubbing at it sorely, having been clenching and relaxing his fist to make it reasonable red, and the veins stick out.