It's a good sign that he's able to regulate his breathing; it controls the swelling of his lungs and reduces the pressure that his diaphragm exudes on his stomach. It happens in degrees at a time but he's able to watch Vanitas reign his responses in, to focus on these smaller things happening in pieces at a time- to stay with them in the moment until the intensity begins to fade. Now that there's food in his stomach to help with the absorption of alcohol, going back to bed isn't a terrible idea. He could use the time to rest. Bruce might not have a crystal clear understanding of his sleep patterns, but Vanitas is chaotic in every other aspect of his life. It would be a strange exception.

"I think you haven't wanted very many things."

Bruce eases away from the counter and leaves the plates, the dishes, where they are. He can take care of them later, when he makes his way back. He brings a canteen of water with him instead and moves in the direction of the door, a signal to follow and abandon the table. Bruce's head tilts towards the hall, to the place Vanitas has been sleeping.