He needed thirteen stitches. The seam across his cheek was a raw reminder of the knife that had nearly run it through. The victim ran his tongue against the opposite side smiling at the man gathering his things on the warehouse floor.

“Is that it?”

He looked up at him blank-faced, “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. I thought by now you doctors would have learned to do something showier.”

“You talk so much, do you have no pain receptors?”

“Oh no, it actu...