Zero self-respect returns, Clark half swiveled towards where Alfred is talking, doing the most with looking contrite enough on possibly also Bruce's behalf. "I'm really sorry, Mr Pennyworth," follows Afred back to the kitchen.
But possibly also not the right sort of contrite. Like he's sorry for the trouble. Somewhere in the same neighbourhood of breaking the kitchen window during a rowdy game of soccer and not weird science experiments that compromises of their safety. Real regret would be angrier, probably, and though in no way, shape, or form does he want Bruce hurt, or to really risk himself in the same way—
They're getting close, is the thing. (And none of this means that this isn't agonising for Clark specifically.)
His hand sneaks over to tangle with Bruce's.
"Evened out pretty quick," he says. "Small acclimation period, maybe half a minute. I think that'll reduce," and there's a clang from the kitchen that has him going guiltily silent and then, quieter, "under the right conditions."
no subject
But possibly also not the right sort of contrite. Like he's sorry for the trouble. Somewhere in the same neighbourhood of breaking the kitchen window during a rowdy game of soccer and not weird science experiments that compromises of their safety. Real regret would be angrier, probably, and though in no way, shape, or form does he want Bruce hurt, or to really risk himself in the same way—
They're getting close, is the thing. (And none of this means that this isn't agonising for Clark specifically.)
His hand sneaks over to tangle with Bruce's.
"Evened out pretty quick," he says. "Small acclimation period, maybe half a minute. I think that'll reduce," and there's a clang from the kitchen that has him going guiltily silent and then, quieter, "under the right conditions."