Sam knew he'd been quiet lately. While other people had been running around in the 1920s, he'd been identifying plausible alternatives for the medicines they didn't keep much of on hand in case of emergency, and now that they were back he was all wrapped up in Rhodey's scans, coming up with 3D modeling that would allow him to perfect his plan of action before ever actually opening him up. Compared to Bucky's arm, restoring enough connection between Rhodes' brain and lower body to build on was going to be a lot more complicated and invasive, and he preferred to be absolutely ready.
Clinic staffing was a priority, though, after the last round of disappearances. He was really hanging out for some more doctors, but he sure as hell wasn't going to turn down a rehab nurse when one came knocking. The interviews were a formality, really, more for him to get an idea of what people were like than to actually decide whether he should hire them. The idea that he might decide not to was much more theory than reality, so far.
He put Rhodey's scans away in the secure file where he stored them before opening his door to let Sarissa in, not bothering to hide his first assessing glance as she entered. Well put together, like she was making an effort without being too over the top about it, but he wasn't expecting much else. People tended to go for that when they were going for job interviews. "Hey. Sarissa, right?"