Without looking, he lifts his good hand and the middle finger attached to it.

"Where. In Flag Hill." A discotheque. A tractor pull. The crusades. Come to think of it, he's not actually sure what a tractor pull entails, other than, obviously, a tractor and pulling of some sort. But surely, Bruce knows. Bruce knows everything. He could ask right now. In fact, he's probably been to one. He could do it if he had to. Because he's Bruce.

His silence is a bit more peaceable now, which could, under the circumstances, be worrying.