"Entry thirty-five, Subject A feels weird, again," he grunts. Takatakataka. After a moment he turns around to face him, gaze critical. Blood has gone invisible on his dark shirt, but there's still some on his hand.

What, Kansas, you haven't trained your vitals to chill at all times? Bruce's heart was slightly elevated after he first dragged himself back to consciousness, but it's evened out. Too slow for some humans to survive comfortably.

He lays his clean hand on Clark's chest, settling over his heart.

"Match my breathing."

Slow, deep breaths. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Relax. Feel yourself. (Look, I'm okay.)