He's amused enough that Bruce is already digging through his cupboards and drawers to find what he needs. It doesn't bother him; he figures that this strange arrangement is going to entwine them in each other's lives pretty significantly so he might as well share the good protein bars with him.

In the bedroom, he takes off his button-down shirt and absently pushes his hand against a bruise on his rib cage to see how far alone it is in healing. Suits hide a lot. Probably a couple of days before it fades. So it goes. He puts on a pair of black pajama bottoms and an old, faded Columbia shirt. "No olives, no peppers, no pineapple. Otherwise go nuts," he calls back, loud enough that Bruce will be able to hear him.

Once he finishes, he steps back into the living room and the open concept floor plan back to the kitchen.