Clark's cheer would be more annoying if 1) Bruce hadn't seen so much of him angry, and in pain, and dead, 2) he wasn't Clark. That he can lure that smile out, and tell that it's real, does a thing to the heart he still has. (That he's always had. Nobody becomes Batman because they don't care. It just got hard, and then he got lost.)

"Uh-huh," is about never finding out, faux-cranky. Bruce slicks his hair back and spends a moment on doing nothing more complicated than watching Clark walk away, because wouldn't you. He catches the towel, and pulls it over his own head first, drying top-down.

"Maybe," he calls, lingering in the bathroom long enough for something-or-other for his face, which is subject to drying out and aging. He would look worse and more scars would still be visible if he weren't vigilant about moisturizer. Also he should probably dry off his foot long dick before the delivery guy shows up and trips on something, since he's just going to guess that Clark has noticed someone approaching the villa, a thing he's still adjusting to. That it isn't omnipresence, it's just his flippin' hearing. And that Bruce can't even be annoyed with his multitude of surveillance points.

"Dunno what they'll bring. Patio or bed?"