Jigen laid on the couch, an ice bag pressed on his cheek which was tied to his head using a bandage. He groaned every now and then to let out a complaint. His tooth was still infected, and it hurt. “Aaaa,” he said when he opened his mouth a bit. He refused to go to a dentist about it, though. They used too many needles. He didn’t think those belonged in mouths. He’d been complaining for days. “Gaaahh,” he moaned again. He laid his head back on the couch and reached for his cigarette box.