Miles is still in a pretty bad way, and Clark can't help but wonder how much worse it must have been before they'd used all of these fancy machines to patch him up. He doesn't let himself linger on the thought; knows from experience that this isn't going to go down a productive path. He'll just have to be more prepared for the possibility of danger in the future.

"Why don't you let me do the grunt work while you mark off the inventory then? The natives weren't nearly as interested in getting a piece of me."

He picks one of the bottles up, turning it over in his hands. "And speaking of... I'm glad you're back on your feet, Miles."