He looked over at Bruce, gave him a good long look up and down, and flat out snorted. No, Bruce. Just no. You're gorgeous. Objectively gorgeous. Physical perfection with clear blue eyes and perfect hair (whether it's styled or not, he feels) and a face that has and should be painted for hanging on walls.

"Only if you are," was all he's got for a response. Then he breathed out.

"I could take a trip down to the supermarket, get a few essentials in here. If I come here to use the kitchen, I'll probably be fine to stop at the store on my way."