Clark watches Bruce do the thing—the withdraw, the pessimism, and even, at this point, the self-correction. Unbothered by it all and warmed by the last. Plus, his donuts efforts will no longer be in vain.

"A berry," he answers, looking back at the schematics and listing back in his chair, loosely folding his arms over his T-shirt. He tends to wear big loose ones like he's still (was never) in college, so the casually impressive flexing has to hold up on its own. Plus, still finishing his donut. "There should be a plain one in there. I mean, a cinnamon one."

Which is plain, basically. And only one, so it's definitely for Bruce.

"How long until a prototype? I mean—" Quick amendment, minding manners. "Approximately, roughly. I know you've been working a lot already on this."