Watson's eyebrows had gone up at Darcy's request, and when Clarke chimes in, he nods. "I've known any number of men, soldiers, insist they need no such thing, and then regret it. This will hurt no matter how quick I am about it, there is no shame in needing this, and we are in no danger in running out of morphine."

He holds a syringe in his hand, waiting for permission, but his expression is serious.