The mafia taught you how to kill, not... how to comfort someone as they get their wisdom teeth. Chuuya awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other, one hand resting on 's shoulder - the other clenching and unclenching in his pockets.

It was bad. Bad. He glanced down at them every so often, using Upon the Tainted Sorrow to keep them pressed into the dentist's chair. “You're fine...” he mumbled, clearing his throat a little.

Fine? It's all he really knew how to say in a room full of people.

The mafioso tried to ignore the various buzzes and whirs of the dentist's tools. Couldn't they have gone to Mori instead? Although... yeah, ethics would definitely be a problem of that.

“Sir?” The lady's flat voice pulled him from his thoughts. “We're done, you can let go.” Chuuya's eyes widened ever so slightly, hand falling from their leg. The lady continued, looking at him sternly over her glasses. “We suggest the next couple of days you stick to soft and liquid foods. If it leaves crumbs, it's a no. Feel free to call the service desk if you have any questions.” Chuuya grimaced slightly, she sounded like she was reading from a script.

He looked down at again, who justifiably looked like they'd rather cry. “Yeah.” He tried to be casual, but it wasn't exactly working.

“Need help gettin’ up?”

Gravity seemed to take your weight off your feet, assisting you waddling out the office. It's the least he could do. “C'mon,” he grumbled, closing his eyes as he tried not to laugh at your pouty face. Thank God for insurance, Chuuya would've imploded if he had to stay here much longer.

“No- no, ya ain't driving—” Chuuya bit his lip, promptly picking you out of his seat. “You can't even drive.” He slid behind the wheel, pinching the bridge of his nose as he heard moan beside him. “You sound like you've been dragged over the bottom of the sea.”