He knows what Bruce is doing. He can't not know. It'd be near impossible for him to miss on a good day. Right now, hyperfocused and edging close to a panic attack, it's like listening to a well-ordered symphony instead of the usual daily mill and bustle of traffic.

"No one can do this all the time," and his voice was soft, careful. Relaxed. "The strain on you... Bruce. I just--"

He closed his eyes again.

"Just for a few days. Just... tell me for a few days. I'm still... figuring out how to be in the world again. I'm sorry, Bruce." He hoped it was a few days. He had to hope. But-- "I'm sorry this is what came back. I am... so sorry."