solarcore: <user name="oslo" site="insanejournal.com"> (216)
ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ ( ᴋᴀʟ-ᴇʟ ). ([personal profile] solarcore) wrote in [personal profile] nightlife 2020-12-31 11:27 pm (UTC)

The phone is idled, set aside and down.

He doesn't all the time expect an answer, and not just because Bruce is Bruce. As established, Clark Kent is not literally psychic, and it's only fair there are some frontiers he can't just access as easily as the rest of them, even when he has a lead to go off of. But also: Bruce is Bruce.

Clark loosens his hold to permit the tangling, careful. Everyone is very fragile. Fingers feel especially delicate. When he returns the gesture with a soft squeeze, it is feather-light.

So is his expression, softening too, worry lines smoothing. He even smiles, but it's a very different kind than happy kind. It is only barely there. "Tell me about it," he invites. It's flat like a request, but should read as a question. He doesn't know enough to give more than platitude, and he doesn't want to give platitude.

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