The delayed turning on the lights just helps confirm some private suspicions, but he grunts in complaint when they're turned on himself. At least he's not seeing spots anymore, but he's squinting in the light. Still, he grabs a small handful of gauze and clamps it over the wound in his arm, and lets the actuators lower him onto a chair. Sitting down, he only needs one for support, while the other three arms explore everything in reach, uncertain but eager to be helpful.

As Daredevil heads for the stairs, he squints after him suspiciously, but his new ally hasn't betrayed him yet.

The doctor returns to a stocky middle-aged man in ragged clothes, straddling a chair backwards and scowling at them warily, squinting a little. All four arms emerging from under his coat pause, swiveling three-pronged talons at him, then largely dismiss him as a threat and return to rummaging, bringing a few bottles to their host's face for him to read the labels. He was hoping for aspirin, but some of these painkillers are probably better, if unfamiliar.