When Bruce heard his name, he moved from where he was wringing a wet towel out in the en suite. He'd removed his uniform and was only in a pair of lounge pants at the moment, his broad chest full of fresh scars and old wounds, some of them caused by the very person he was currently coming to check on. Jason was a hell of a shot and even better with a knife.

"I'm right here, Jason," Bruce said, his voice low with promise as he approached the bed and looked down at the state of Jason. "How are you feeling?"