[ With a nod to warn Kaz of what he's about to do, Medic runs his hands along the ridges of that attachment, feels the scar tissue and understands instantly that the initial cuts weren't made with any sort of care of precision. Meaning, the man must have had to weather this amputation under duress or something worse, which tightens Medic's expression and forms a deep crevasse between his brows in private contemplation.

It's not anything he's going to verbalize, because dredging up the circumstances of old wounds aren't productive, but his palms run gently down the ghostly prosthetic as if it were a real limb. Sets Kaz's 'foot' back against the ground, fingers leaving it with care. ]

...Yes. The technology is beyond me. [ Suddenly several degrees more formal, his expression still settled on a half-frown, before he gathers himself. ] ...I can't think of any prosthetic back in my time that'll work half as well as this, but I don't think you'll have any problems with this one.

[ A brief, apologetic tic of his mouth. ] If you find it hurting at any time, please feel free to find me. I expect I'll be here on this ship for a while longer, so I can take a look at your leg without the attachment. [ ha ha..... ha. ]