He closes his eyes then, closes them and leans in so slowly. Bruce might think, wildly, impossibly, that he was trying to kiss him except that the mechanics are all wrong. No, he's leaning in to press his forehead to Bruce's, leaving that the only point of contact between them. Eyes closed, forehead to forehead, the rim of his glasses touching his brow on every breath out.

"You really think that, don't you?" and his voice is only just above a whisper.

"You really think I don't know."