Bruce blinked and straightened. He hadn't expected an analysis of his performance mere minutes after they'd started.
[color=0072bc]"Well,"[/color] he rasped, clearing his throat again, harboring the distinct feeling he was about to be readily instructed. [color=0072bc]"It takes eleven pounds of pressure to collapse a windpipe."[/color]
Ross had been exerting an excess of perhaps fifty with just one hand- thinking about it, Bruce was fortunate Ross hadn't held him for any longer than an instant, or he'd have very likely blacked out.
Bruce thought hard to explain his decisions- the instincts he'd repressed had returned to him more quickly than he'd anticipated, and the more natural something was, the harder it became to explain. 
[color=0072bc]"I'll confess that there wasn't a lot of conscious thought beforehand, but I figured that changing the scope of the battle from in-fighting to middle range would only hinder any attempt to actually hit you. I've improved my control over the earth, but your sword could easily negate any projectiles I might have struck with, and even if I connected us via my chains, I only imagine we'd end up in close quarters again."[/color]
Bruce paused, careful to avoid exaggerating what might have really spun through his mind or simply justifying his actions.
[color=0072bc]"Instincts brought forth a bad result this time, I suppose. I should adjust my tendency to accept being struck to score an attack myself. I probably should have been light on my feet and tried to trip you up with my chains rather than being so straightforward, right?"[/color] Bruce asked, a slightly self-deprecating smile flashing across his face. A moment later it disappeared as his brows furrowed.
[color=0072bc]"Or maybe I could have just stabbed him in the hand?"[/color] he muttered. There was no malicious intent in his voice, just hypothetical curiosity.