Thanks to Claire's assistance during the prior evening, Sam was back in action again. His leg had been entirely healed, as were the rest of the daily scrapes and bruises that he had that typically came along with the life of a hunter, and he found that he felt better than ever. Under normal circumstances, he would have sucked it up and dealt with his own injuries. Now, however, he had to make an exception. Because if he didn't, he'd be useless in the rescue they were about to hurl themselves into. Sam really didn't want that. He had promised he'd be there.
So here he was. Shouldering his shotgun, double checking the rest of his person for all of the extra supplies that he'd brought along -- hell, he even had a backpack stocked up with extra gear in case they needed it. As far as he was concerned? He was ready to do this. Sam wasn't walking into this place blindly, especially not after hearing about some of the stuff that was there.
"I'm good," he told her, giving her a firm nod. "What about you?"