Bruce hasn't gone far. He's drying off and pulling a face at a few spots of pink that are coming off on the towel where he didn't get all of the pollen. That he can tolerate, but it does concern him enough to find a mirror and check his face to ensure that no trace of blood remains.

Alien plant jizz? Fine. Banner blood? No go.

"I don't need reassurance. I'd rather just see my friends get their shit together." Whether it loses gravity when he says it while he's tilting his head back to look up his own nose is not his problem.

If the word "love" gets dropped, he's heading back out into the city to find whoever has mind-controlled and/or kidnapped Tony.

Satisfied that he's properly cleaned up, he frowns a little at his reflection. He's been having some trouble reconciling who he sees in the mirror lately, so that's no change. It would be great if he could just stop wondering where the years went when he looks at himself.