He doesn't have a natural instinct towards platitude. It's probably frustrated more than one journalist or superfan on the rare occasions that Superman has touched down long enough to be spoken to, but there it is. Now, none come to mind either, looking past Bruce in an effort to see this place through his eyes.

Black trees, white fog, grey buildings. Different to the palettes of yellow and blue that define his own childhood memories.

Bruce looks back at him, and Clark returns attention on a slight delay, and then gives a slightly surprised smile, as if not expecting the callback. He wanders a step or two closer. "No," he agrees. "I don't have what it takes to be an Amazon, apparently. She, uh." Mm. Some kinda memory plays out behind his eyes and crinkled brow. "Well, we sparred."

That's probably not the whole story.