"It could be externally deactivated, somehow," Clark says, thoughtfully, though not drumming up an argument either way, just—probably far too used to talking about the oddities of himself with Bruce, the obstacles, the benefits. It's a contrast to having had no one to discuss such things.

No, that's not entirely true. His parents, and Martha in particular, who'd been there through the growing pains, who never looked at him in shock or dismay at each new thing, just worry, sometimes something else. He thinks he learned all of these invasive biometric readings from her own intuitive guidance, long before he learned how to fly.

"Whatever works," he says. "No, I don't mind. I think it's..." Practical? Necessary? "Probably fair," he settles on, more good humour than anything pensive.