Violent lung bleeding is definitely on the list of things Bruce is trying to avoid. To that end, he's gotten the worse end of things, aside from Clark bouncing against the ceiling a few times. And a few sensations of head-squeezing, probably. He watches Clark closely now, and observes the readings he's putting out.

Rushing to conclusions would be bad. The last time they let themselves get distracted, Bruce ended up with frozen peas on his face.

"Tell me about my breathing," he prompts. Baiting the professional writer in him. Describe it. Compare it to your own. Explain how it sounds.

Meanwhile, Bruce fusses with more readings, takes some notes, gets him to walk to one side of the chamber to the other, then back. Takes his own blood pressure, checks his own oxygen saturation. Does not try for either of these things with Clark, who normally would not be able to be manipulated by such medical intrusions. Baby steps. His vitals settle, but don't dip lower. They aren't the same as Bruce's, but like, no one's are. So.

Quieter than usual: "Would you like to try something?"