When Tony pulls away Bruce allows himself a fleeting frown, but he makes sure that Tony's back is turned so he can't see it. Bruce isn't the one who needs help right now, not really. He knows how hard it is to see the results of your own destruction laid out in front of your eyes.

For a moment he wonders if he should leave, if he should pick the shrapnel out himself so that Tony doesn't have to see it - but then he realizes it might help Tony to do it, to remove the weapons he once created from existence.

So he follows along in Tony's wake, keeping his expression just a shade warmer than neutral. When he reaches the couch he does what Tony wishes and sits down in front of him, reaching down to pull the shirt he'd hastily thrown on up and over his head. He deposits it next to himself on the couch and turns his attention back to Tony, doing his best not to be bothered by the tiny, itchy particles scattered across his torso and arms. They aren't anything to be worried about, and he's not bleeding, but it will be to have them gone.

"I'm all yours," Bruce says, his voice soft, barely above a murmur. He smiles reassuringly and offers his arm up for Tony to deal with.