Necessarily, the clear wall of tank glass is pretty good against glare, likewise protecting from greasy fingerprints with a decent about of space enforced by a railing, but maybe there's a faint shadow of reflection that shows a beginning smile from Clark, a raised eyebrow that communicates go on regarding the thesis of beluga whales being the opposite of cats.

He breaks into a bigger grin when he is the last of the three to tip alongside, and the whale tips nearly upside down.

Laughing, low and quiet, he says, "This is a good aquarium."

His hand finds Bruce's, and he pulls him along at a slow wander for a few feet, the creature on the other side of the glass following them apace. "Reminds me of Woodstock," he adds, which is probably not very flattering to Sigrit, the beluga whale, but probably Clark imagines that Woodstock, the sun conure, very smart, and also prone to watching him exactly like this, following his movements. "But it's probably more like the other way around. I've met some whales."

Slow moving humpbacks, older and wiser and lazily curious about the visiting primate and his bright red plumage. Bright red at the time, anyway.