He doesn't take long-- doesn't even use all of Clark's hot water, which is uncharacteristically nice of him. (He has reasons not to linger. He's not sixteen. Fuck's sake.) Bruce reemerges dressed in the same clothes, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair still damp. He immediately looks up, and frowns.

"What is it?" How does he still sound this tired, also. "Do you have coffee?" Oh.