The diagnosis doesn't tell Daniel much outside of what was already obvious from Seth's shaking and his general inability to sit still, but he appreciates the confirmation regardless.

"Thank you," he says again, tentatively getting to his feet. Pleased he's able to support himself just fine, he moves over to shake her hand gratefully. And also shoot Seth a not-terribly-inconspicuous worried look. He's not going to go treating his friend like he's something fragile or broken - because he isn't, however much he might think otherwise, he wouldn't have gotten them both here had that been the case - but it's clear that everything that's happened has done its psychical damage. A bullet hole in the shoulder is, at least, fixable, reassuringly tangible with clear instructions on how to cleanse, repair, and heal.

But Daniel still doesn't know the complete specifics of what happened to Seth while he was kept in the base, what kind of psychological torture was inflicted on him, what kind of mental state he might be in now or how good he is at hiding it. The only conclusion he can unquestionably come to is that helping Seth through it won't be as simple as patching a bullet to the shoulder.