Azrael walked slowly into the waiting room, trying to avoid further pain to his ribs. He cradled his broken arm, now in a cast, and sucked in shallow, painful puffs of air. He walked, slow as a snail, over to the nearest unoccupied bench and sat down gingerly. He tok a deep breath and cast a glance around the room.
"Ouch," He all but screamed in the room His ribs were groaning in protest. He exhaled slowly and waited his turn, returning to the quick, shallow breathing he had done once before.