"Maybe. Maybe not." Bruce shrugs again, his hands idly gripping the edge of the counter behind him, a tendon twitching in his forearm as he tenses and then relaxes.

"We play the cards we're dealt, even if it's an unfortunate hand. But - death? I don't think you can go back and try to calculate the exact moment, the turning point when that was what would happen." He straightens up. "That being said, you look pretty alive to me."