"How are you feeling?" he asked you. And he did so in that tone of his that indicated he didn't want bullshit, he didn't want lies, he wanted you to be honest.

It encircled a wide range of possibilities. Personally, emotionally...

Physically.

Bruce adopted you after finding you in the streets. You were a different case from the others. He found you during patrol, passed out behind a dumpster. Malnourished, bruised...

Your neglectful parents who were not exactly caring, had abandoned you shortly after you had been diagnosed with cancer. They couldn't afford it, frankly didn't care to afford it and didn't even know if the treatment would save you. Or those were the excuses.

He didn't know if you would make it either. Damn it, he had found you a bit much later than ideal into the illness. Surviving. He had money, he provided for it, but even if you couldn't fight this he at least wanted you to feel cared for. He didn't want you to die alone, scared, neglected.