He is under no illusion that there would be a line of people wanting to conduct experiments on him if everyone was to know who he is. Even if his hand is being somewhat forced here, being able to pick and choose what he's willing to subject himself to is a much better fate.

Don't do this to him, Raylan. It only makes him miserable, keeping count of how many days it has been since he passed his millionth day. He can barely fathom anything numbering in the thousands.

"It must be barely two weeks, since I met you," he notes. It feels a lot longer than that. It feels like he's known Raylan all his life. In the grand scheme of things, one blink and Raylan would be gone. Same with Wynonna, Waverly, Nicole, Jeremy, Dolls...

Doc's grip tightens on a broken piece of floorboard he is holding in both hands. Now isn't the time or place to be having a little existential crisis. He moves quietly to pick up the hammer and the pack of nails they managed to find in the garage.

"Feels like ten years with all that kicking and screaming going on," he jokes.