"Sharks," Clark says, definitively. There's a bias, there.
That practically all of Smallville and everyone at a news organisation knows Superman's identity should gesture to the farce that is Clark Kent navigating the world with his distinct everything, but a few small things can be shockingly effective. The glasses, sure, but a less articulate hairstyle, the tweed jacket he threw over his forest plaid, a conscious way of tapping into certain personality centres that aren't completely fabricated. There is something a little dopier and disarming in the way he talked the cashier through his vegan breakfast, or smiled at the lady selling admission. Superman, in a lot of ways, is a whole other performance.
The disguise of 'sweet dork who kind of looks like Superman, don't you think' is effective when it's, you know, only a little off from the truth. And no one's looking at them now, anyway.
They're looking at sharks.
The tanks are spooky in a way Clark likes, necessarily gigantic, full of shadows and sharding light that wobbles through the surface. The sharks that glide by are wide eyed, toothy, (he'd thought about it, kissing Bruce's smile in the car, hard and chastising, but his hands had been full and he really did want to go to the aquarium,) and Clark never really figured out if his sense of living creatures actually gives him some insight into how they're feeling. It is possible he is just prone to projecting onto them, he knows, but these guys read curious and friendly.
"Do you think they're more like dogs or horses to Atlanteans?" is his completely serious question.
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That practically all of Smallville and everyone at a news organisation knows Superman's identity should gesture to the farce that is Clark Kent navigating the world with his distinct everything, but a few small things can be shockingly effective. The glasses, sure, but a less articulate hairstyle, the tweed jacket he threw over his forest plaid, a conscious way of tapping into certain personality centres that aren't completely fabricated. There is something a little dopier and disarming in the way he talked the cashier through his vegan breakfast, or smiled at the lady selling admission. Superman, in a lot of ways, is a whole other performance.
The disguise of 'sweet dork who kind of looks like Superman, don't you think' is effective when it's, you know, only a little off from the truth. And no one's looking at them now, anyway.
They're looking at sharks.
The tanks are spooky in a way Clark likes, necessarily gigantic, full of shadows and sharding light that wobbles through the surface. The sharks that glide by are wide eyed, toothy, (he'd thought about it, kissing Bruce's smile in the car, hard and chastising, but his hands had been full and he really did want to go to the aquarium,) and Clark never really figured out if his sense of living creatures actually gives him some insight into how they're feeling. It is possible he is just prone to projecting onto them, he knows, but these guys read curious and friendly.
"Do you think they're more like dogs or horses to Atlanteans?" is his completely serious question.