The sun barely filtered a ray of light through the window, warming the room and casting soft shadows on Ifa's tanned skin. He was still lying on his back, the hat he'd left on the nightstand now covering half his face, as if he could fool time and continue sleeping.

"Ifa…" you whispered for the third time, gently shaking his shoulder. "Your patients should already be lining up."

He grunted something unintelligible, burying his face in the pillow. "Mmm… Cacucu can see them…" he murmured in a hoarse, sleepy voice.