Rhys waited patiently in the waiting room. He opens his cargo pocket and pulls out a butter-fly knife. He looks at his nails in his hand and starts carving out debris that is filled between the nail and flesh.
He then looks around, whistling... "... My day can't get any better. I have to say that this place is quite soothing..." mutters to himself. "... scent of tint rotten blood, dark corridors - hmm, as I expected before I came here..." [clears throat]
Rhys continues carving out debris from his nails as he leans over.
