There's a look of concern that fleetingly ghosts over Doc's face at Five's cough. A blink and you'll miss it kind of furrowing of the eyebrows and tension in his jaw. There isn't much he can do beyond imploring that Five get some rest, but he has already done that, to limited effect. The last thing he wants to do is push his luck and turn people frustrated by his 'incessant nagging' away to brave dealing with their injuries on their own.

"We should be alright for three days. Bandages are running low though. I've put a pillowcase through boiled water, just in case, but it's not ideal." They are the kind of people who can make whatever work, who won't ask for more than what life has given them, who can make things happen out of what little they can scrounge together, but Doc had considered braving the snowstorm for another first aid kit from the General Store. He doubts anyone will have gone there in this weather.

"If you want to stay for some food, we have enough for you. I hope you know this door is always open." They might be somewhere sometime in New England but they take their hospitality with them wherever they go. And should the shit hit the fan in the most spectacular ways, Doc would never say 'I told you so' even if he might think it. He would only ask what they can do about it, how to fix it, how to move forward.