[He means about the food and in general, but Bruce doesn't see it as insulting her. He just means to express his equanimity with the idea of being rejected, to make her feel freer to do it if she wants to. It doesn't need to be a fight with him-- despite prior evidence to the contrary, in the push and pull, the tug, of their relationship to date-- and he'd rather it not be. How to go about conveying that to her effectively, he isn't sure, but Bruce is trying.

He's had to degrade himself too many times merely for base survival to think twice of her doing it here. It's saner if he doesn't see it as degradation, if he thinks of it as pure practicality. The same way he'd gotten through all the begging he'd had to do from time to time, all the reliance on the kindness of people whose language he didn't even speak, barefooted and mostly naked and still given to him.

Hayley asking him to stay the night was an asylum he granted with very few questions asked. Maybe some part of him felt compelled to pay it forward.]

I know that you don't need anything from me, [he answers with slightly raised eyebrows, as if questioning why she'd feel the need to state it, it's so obvious. Bruce takes his seat and snaps open his own eating chopsticks, as unflappable as ever.

He decides to answer the question honestly, since it's pertinent to her staying here tonight, which he's already agreed to.] Yeah. I can manage it if I meditate for a while first. I'm a light sleeper, though. Very light. I especially wake up to doors opening.

[All that old paranoia at work. Bruce offers a half-shrug as he starts to dig into his food.] It won't freak me out or anything if you wake me up.