Maybe he could be bought with a not!Tesla. The rare couple of times he's driven some of Bruce's ridiculous sportscars probably show his hand a little. No confirmation either way, just an exhale like a laugh, a sharp edge of a smile. When you say it like that—
And then Clark just breathes out as carefully, but efficiently, more pins are added, more little points of pinching pressure that all seem to get worse faster, all in close proximity like that, but he only makes a sound when his leg is pushed out, a twitch of muscle up from the back of his knee, through his thigh.
Clark's hands gravitate back to Bruce once he's suddenly there, palms smoothing up against his chest. Some remark is swallowed at that flick, drawing his mind back up from the line of building pain down his thigh. Okay.
"Good," he says, quietly, taking these little check ins for what they are. As he says so, he lift his leg and lets that row of clips bump against Bruce, only gently, quick to rest his thigh back down. No visible flinch, otherwise. "Had a line, forgot it. You would've laughed, I bet."
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And then Clark just breathes out as carefully, but efficiently, more pins are added, more little points of pinching pressure that all seem to get worse faster, all in close proximity like that, but he only makes a sound when his leg is pushed out, a twitch of muscle up from the back of his knee, through his thigh.
Clark's hands gravitate back to Bruce once he's suddenly there, palms smoothing up against his chest. Some remark is swallowed at that flick, drawing his mind back up from the line of building pain down his thigh. Okay.
"Good," he says, quietly, taking these little check ins for what they are. As he says so, he lift his leg and lets that row of clips bump against Bruce, only gently, quick to rest his thigh back down. No visible flinch, otherwise. "Had a line, forgot it. You would've laughed, I bet."