He's got a hat on, Fiona, let him live. (Later, in an employee area— 'Did you see Bruce Wayne?' 'Who?' 'The WayneTech guy, he was here with some investor, I guess' 'I don't think that was him, there's like no way he's that tall, for one', and the Earth continues to turn—)
Clark deserves nice pictures; atmospheric ones of his own beflanneled self, the small shark who accidentally high-fived him, even Bruce's reflection and a ray. He's not a gifted photographer, but he's got a steady hand and a general awareness of composition that comes from a life of passive art consumption. Stuffed to the gills (hah) the Manor was, before. His own tastes run a little less classical. A mysterious captured view of Clark's hand, shimmering with saltwater, is nothing if not sexual. When the heck did he take that.
Ninjas, man.
"I think you may be on to something," Bruce says, his voice grudging, elbow against Clark's in the outdoor food court slash boutique shopping experience. They really are selling fish tacos in here, aren't they. "Bleak."
no subject
Clark deserves nice pictures; atmospheric ones of his own beflanneled self, the small shark who accidentally high-fived him, even Bruce's reflection and a ray. He's not a gifted photographer, but he's got a steady hand and a general awareness of composition that comes from a life of passive art consumption. Stuffed to the gills (hah) the Manor was, before. His own tastes run a little less classical. A mysterious captured view of Clark's hand, shimmering with saltwater, is nothing if not sexual. When the heck did he take that.
Ninjas, man.
"I think you may be on to something," Bruce says, his voice grudging, elbow against Clark's in the outdoor food court slash boutique shopping experience. They really are selling fish tacos in here, aren't they. "Bleak."