Bruce only grunted. While it was true that Tony was the more talented in that area, he would be hard-pressed to admit it aloud. That his friend had gotten past his defenses was proof enough. But he didn't mind having some of Tony's tech here, if it didn't get in his way. Besides, it took too long for him to get out of the suit manually. "Put them near the cars," he grumbled. "I'll give them busy work; they can do my detailing."
The year of Jason's death had been the worst of his life; first his son, then six months later, Barbara had been shot. Six months after that, Tony had been taken, and there hadn't been a thing he'd been able to do about any one of them. It had taken him a very long time to come back from the darkness he'd sunken into; out of darkness, into darkness, but he had never been the same since.
Bruce had been teetering on the edge since first suspecting that Jason might be alive, but now he was careening back into that dark place, knowing the damage he'd done was even worse than being responsible for the boy's death in the first place.
"He didn't know how; or he wouldn't tell me. I go the impression he was hiding something." Bruce shrugged Clark's hand off his shoulder, but not unkindly. He just couldn't take the affection in contrast with his guilt. "He's here to be the Batman that I'm not. The Batman that Gotham truly needs, and that I refuse to be." Hitting the bag so hard it fell from its chain, Bruce stared at it on the floor. "He's here to 'save' Gotham by slaughtering its criminals wholesale."
Since it wasn't worthwhile to hit either of them, Bruce crossed his arms over his chest when he turned to face them so he wouldn't be tempted. "He doesn't understand-" he paused; tried again. "Jason found out that I didn't kill Joker after-" Unable to express the heartbreak of that conversation, of Jason's conviction that Bruce would have avenged his death if he'd really loved him. "He's angry," he said, his throat tight and choaked. "And I have to stop him."