The uniform-clad gentleman's stance further cemented her assessment that he was military, probably had seen some action, there was just something about the eyes of people who had. Something Martha knew all too well... But she had no time to focus on him.
"I am. Doctor Jones," she introduced herself briefly before grabbing a few more items and putting them down on the tray table and putting on gloves. When the man moved, Martha took over putting pressure on the wound. She needed to get the clothing off, the wound cleaned and assessed and get blood into the patient's system and that was just the start.
"So long as my patient doesn't mind you being here, you can stay," she started to pull the red fabric away from the patient's chest and started to remove the shirt, momentarily removing the pressure, only to put it back almost immediately.
"What's your name?" she asked the teen, trying to get him to focus on something other than the pain.