There's probably a lot of things that Clark is doing with his life and choices that might have had Jon Kent throw his hat on the ground, and not even eating cheese might be one of them (because voting for Clinton over Dole was going to go to Clark's Kryptonian grave).

Still, he has no complaints about his purchase, a couple of big bites in to curb hunger before contentedly taking his time, fussily tearing and rerolling wrapping to manage salsa and other bits.

"Uh huh," Clark says, returning to his coffee. "Sometimes. I could usually talk dad into letting me take the truck out, and they didn't do much to check ID or anything. Classics and horror movies, mostly. Shut down a few years ago, or longer." A quizzical head tip of recollection. "I think there's a Dillons there now."

Sips coffee. "You?"