Bruce could say he is spoiled for outlets. More nights than not, per month, he is violently terrorizing someone. Someone is always mortal, always breakable, always the losing opponent who never stood a chance. There have even been times where he did not stop himself, despite knowing it would result in death at his own hands; concussions, internal bleeding, left unattended. No conspiracy theory prison shankings or careless rockets required.

Clark sits. Bruce watches.

"And you."

Is that - he had a place, an outlet, and Clark, or is that - and what about you, Clark. Bruce doesn't clarify. (It's both. If it were just violence, if he didn't find him perversely attractive, if he hadn't spent so long feeling nothing, it would be easier.)