"What about Carrie?" There was urgency in Bruce's voice; had he been ten years younger, it would've been a snarl. And oh yes, he was arguing with Alfred. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. He worried about the others, of course, but he needed to know if Carrie was okay. She wasn't his Carrie, but she was still Carrie.
Had Alfred interrupted at another time, Bruce would likely have listened. He was on edge now, and if Dick walked out of the room now to get him pain killers, Bruce would find out whether or not his legs could hold him up while he chased Dick down.