There's always some measure of discomfort to be found- not just in re-bandaging injuries, but in allowing himself to be handled by another person. Even Alfred, who Bruce has always had, has always trusted, has always loved-

He wanted to be able to do things on his own.

The man before him works in short, practiced maneuvers; Bruce's gaze follows despite his outward stillness. A small knife is produced and he doesn't flinch, it'd be a stretch to say he even batted an eyelash. After all, if this man had come here to hurt him, or kill him, an attempt would have been made long before this moment. A knife changes nothing. The pieces he offers for the split feel fragile, but once the tape has been reapplied he considers that fragile is perhaps the wrong word. They're more flexible. They better follow the shape of his fingers and don't add weight. They won't slow him down.

"Thank you."

It's a very good lesson.
Once he no longer needs them, Bruce will keep the pieces and attempt to duplicate them. To learn.