Sam doesn’t look up from his work, doesn’t even blink when Kurloz says he used to use it, after he lost someone. It’s not a surprise, not with what he knows about his friend, and not with how many of the veterans he’s known who resorted to self-medicating.

But he does hesitate when Kurloz all but begs, that he doesn’t want them to do it for him.

For one of the first times Sam can remember, his instincts are telling him two very different things. The pararescue part says stop wasting time, he’s not thinking clearly, shoot him up and finish stitching him up and get him to safety, they can deal with everything else afterwards. The rest of him, the parts that’re counselor and friend, says stop, because there’s something about this that’s obviously a trigger and they need to know why, he can’t just throw Kurloz into this. It’s not enough to save his life if what they’re doing is just going to fuck with his head later.

Psiioniic makes the decision for him - but really, considering that even when Sam hesitated, scrambling to figure out what he should do here, he’d kept stitching, kept his focus on placement and formation and monitoring vitals as well as he can without any of his equipment, maybe he’d already made the same one.

“It’s not like back then.” He can’t look up for too long, because the quicker he gets this done the quicker they can get out of here, but he keeps talking anyway. “It’s different. This is you and me and him, all right? Focus on us, stay here with us, and don’t go back then.”