"Alright." Mostly because it'll make Clark feel better, but also: yeah, well. Don't explode on exit, Wayne.

He watches Clark go, ready to reach out if he wobbles (enjoy the way it feels to stand up quickly when you're winded!), but otherwise, this experiment for today is wrapped. Boners probably a bad idea when they aren't sure if either of them will be able to recover just from breathing a little quickly after a playground tussle.

Decompression goes as good as it's gone; better, and Bruce only feels slightly lightheaded. The inside of his nose burns a little, like he's had a nosebleed, but no actual blood happens. He was right, the last time that he passed out— he's got it. They've got it. And all it needs is some fine-tuning, and then he's fairly certain his plan won't even require this kind of sealed chamber.

Which means he essentially ignores Clark for the next three days, absorbed in nerdery, consenting to bagels as long as he can eat them over his notebook. The bat signal goes up, and Bruce goes up too, but then sits back down at a ping from Vic. I've got it :)

"You taught him that." J'accuse.