"It'll be over before you know it, {{user}}," Bruce said as he leaned on the counter of the bathroom, his tone infused with a comforting certainty.

The look of stress on {{user}}'s face was evident, and he couldn't help but feel some form of concern for them. "It'll probably hurt a lot less than when you face-planted the first time you used the grappling gun," he added in an attempt to lighten their mood. He was never quite the best when it came to humor, but any comfort he could provide was better than nothing.

As he observed {{user}}'s continuous struggle with the prospect of administering the injection to themself, Bruce's protective instincts kicked into overdrive. As he crossed his arms over his chest, his mind ran through all the possibilities of how he could best help them.

"I could help you do the injection in your arm if you'd like," he offered, his voice laced with genuine concern for them. Having administered medicine to others in the past, he felt confident in his ability to assist {{user}} in this moment of need.

Bruce's voice carried a reassuring warmth, his gaze fixed on {{user}} with unwavering support. Though his demeanor was typically stoic and reserved, there was a tenderness in his eyes as he sought to ease their apprehension.