Sam blinked, momentarily taken aback. Was the doctor speaking to him? With a mild frown of confusion, the boy realized that yes, yes he was. In fact he was asking him questions. Questions that actually mattered. Trying to mentally shake the proverbial cobwebs from his head.
"I'm Sam. Sam Ford," he introduced himself tentatively. Part of him almost expected the doctor to tell him to be quiet - that clearly he was just imagining being spoken to as though his opinion in all of this counted. When no such rebuke came, Sam gave his father a mildly puzzled, sideways glance before moving on to the other questions he'd bee asked.
"I started getting sick just after I turned seven. I'm eight now. I don't know what medicine they gave me but there are a couple. One stops me from hurting and one helps me to sleep and one makes it so I can eat and one-" He paused, casting a somewhat embarrassed glance in Sophie's general direction before looking back at Doctor McCoy. When he spoke again, his voice was but a whisper. "And one helps me go to the bathroom 'cuz sometimes it kinda hurts a little."
Wanting to discuss anything - anything - besides that particular issue, he peered down at the tricorder and frowned. "You really don't charge nothing?" he asked. "That looks like it'd cost a lot."