He will need to be shown the way, somewhat - this is not the entrance he used, when he did what he did, and Kryptonian design is not perfectly intuitive to an Earthling. I guess you know. Because Bruce has been here before, has done long hours of work in here, before.

They cross a chamber until they don't, when Clark is the only one crossing and Bruce has paused. Just looking. At the ship, and him.

After a moment he moves again, and makes a grunted sound of what might be approval. Yeah yeah, you're very handy. He reaches out, hand wrapping around Clark's wrist to direct that sandwich at his own face, which he uses to take a bite of it. Hmph. An inescapable truth, Alfred's tuna salad is divine. And now if they kiss later, they'll both taste like tuna and no one will find it off-putting. Bruce's footfalls on the strange metal deck are audible as they go - not yet adapted to making them silent, on this material of unearthly origin, but by the time they leave Clark will have to go back to listening to his breathing to hear him move around. He had been busy with other things, the last time he was aboard.

"Gonna go out on a limb and guess my pronunciation is shit," he says, when they arrive at the bridge. "I can read alright, at least the primary written language. It helps that I can already read a handful of Earth abugidas. There are some references to what appears to be an older multi-tiered alphabet system, but I haven't seen enough of it to many any sense of it. Can you ask the computer to only recognize Kryptonian?"

A concession to manners. It's Clark's house.