Bruce flicks his gaze up, brief. I'm not angry. He's just irritated, Tim, this is pretty much the default state of Bruce Waynes in any reality; if he was angry, the entire block would notice.

The worry with cuts - beyond the fact that Tim has puny human antibodies from just his own Earth - is the possibility for them to react with the bio-toxin, or pass it to Bruce if he touches his skin for too long or, worse, his blood. So the care he takes is deliberate, even though it's clear from the way he works that his touch is normally a gentle one. (Odd.) He cleans them, presses down carefully on Tim's abdomen to make sure there's no swelling or signs of irritation from the toxin in his blood mixing with the air, and then cleans them again so he can stitch them up.

Finally: "None of you exist in my world."

It's one hell of a loaded statement.