Clark laughs. At himself, when he rolls Bruce off, away, at the sheer effort that just took, lying on his back and grinning at the ceiling. He's also not looking at the monitors, personally, like the science behind this all has fallen into the background of the moment. Later, it'll be interesting.

Right now, he's feeling the way that initial burn of exhaustion has left him. He is still strong, if we're grading on a curve here. Human-strong, and not—nerfed-alien, which is different, he thinks.

He rolls a look at Bruce just as he says that, already speculative, already ready.

That self-conscious care he'd demonstrated initially, that guarding against clumsiness, is apparently gone as he rolls, getting a knee beneath himself to lever off and tackle Bruce back down to the mat. It is not as graceful as the times he's followed such motions through when they train, like gravity is a shackle he's getting used to as opposed to pretending he has to consider, but the weight of him slamming into Bruce feels very human.

And solid, and also locked an arm up under Bruce's to lever him back into a pin.