"You get used to it," He answered with a half laugh. "And, my name is Sam."

Sam pulled back the whiskey and poured it over the wound. Under normal circumstances he would have used a proper antiseptics, but this was what the dream provided, so it was what he used.

Moving quickly, he picked up a pair of long-nosed tweezers and removed the bullet, the small lead ball making a familiar tink! as it hit the aluminum trey. After that, he used one of the bandages Rose had found to sop up the gush of blood before threading a needle and making five neat stitches.

"It was shallow." He murmured, cutting the last stitch and setting the needle down. "You're going to be fine."