"We can help him too. I would need to see what was done, but there are ways to deal with pain from the grafts and working through the physical therapy." It hadn't felt like 'therapy' when Albert had gone through it, relearning how to hold a pencil without breaking it or to walk when his balance was completely different in an environment where he would succeed or the scientists observing would mutter to one another about scrapping him and using another subject if he failed. He won't let that be the only force behind Sam and Clint's recovery, though he has to admit it's certainly motivating in a morbid way.

Albert draws his mouth into a thin line, trying to look Sam in the eyes, trying to see where he is mentally before the conversation goes on. This is trauma he's familiar with; working through interpersonal relationships may not be his wheelhouse, but your body suddenly not feeling like your own, your questioning your own humanity, or your own identity, that he's struggled with most of his life.

"Sam," he's quieter, less business-like. "Tell me what you're thinking about yourself."