Clark's eyebrows do a few things over the course of that story, raising up at the phrase 'errant hand grenade'. He should probably, at some stage, get used to the buckwild nonsense that Bruce will casually refer to about his own neighbourhood, but where would the fun be in that.

The highway will be fun, the lonely tracts of land outside the city will be nice, speaking of them. Playing chaffeur is also fine, and takes his mind off the mood they left behind in the backseat.

"Well, maybe someone nice will move in," says Clark.

Dare to dream.

"Who else is getting a postcard?"