As an assassin he’d had the patience of a saint;; he had been able
to wait hours for a perfect shot, sometimes he’d spent whole days to
observe a target. But waiting three hours and twenty four minutes until
your first child is born is way too long in his opinion. He bounces nervously
on his feet and then walks over to the doors that separate them from the
labor room, looking through the glass as though he could see anything.
He doesn’t. Releasing a huff, he walks back to the chairs while kneading
his hands.

       Why does this take ages for fuck’s sake!