To explain that story takes a lot out of him - not as much as it used to; since getting it out to Clark the first time, and allowing bits and pieces of it to be shared for the purposes of potential exorcism, and from therapy, he's become more numb to it. But it still leaves a cold, nauseous feeling in his center, and it makes him want to withdraw from everything. It's not that he's afraid - after his overdose on the toxin, he's not sure he can feel fear - but a kind of scrambling anxiety he doesn't have words for. Like his defense mechanisms are so worn and so tired that there's nothing else to do but try and leave.

Cassandra's acceptance moves him, but it confuses him too. (If one person's embrace could fix him, wouldn't that be a lovely world.) He looks at her in silence, and there's nothing much to read off of him. He's tired, and for a while, his brain fails to come up with any response at all. He doesn't understand why the fuck she would accept him. He's not some lost child who needs guidance, he's a grown man who put himself in every single one of these situations, he's Batman, and he doesn't have any excuses. He's not sure if he even wants acceptance-- and that's the thing, isn't it. Bruce doesn't know how to do anything but torture himself over his mistakes. He can forgive others, but never himself.

Quietly,

"Why are you here?"