Clark's brows knit together midway through the exchange, his 10% depleted teacup set aside as he slides a look between men. By the time Alfred is finished, bewilderment has converted into bewildered amusement, the corner of his mouth crooking up.
"Mr Pennyworth," is goodbye, good natured.
(For the record, he Did Not let supersight glimmer through the walls for long, curiousity only overtaking him when he thinks it's been long enough for a man to have gotten dressed. Concern has dogged his heels since they turned away from the manor and headed back for the house by the lake, and concern dogs his heels now as he follows Bruce down the corridor.
Nothing for it, really.)
"Considering the state of things from the last Wildcats v Meteors game," Clark says, presently, "my vote's for cards, next go."
Obviously, they're not going to talk about their feelings.
no subject
"Mr Pennyworth," is goodbye, good natured.
(For the record, he Did Not let supersight glimmer through the walls for long, curiousity only overtaking him when he thinks it's been long enough for a man to have gotten dressed. Concern has dogged his heels since they turned away from the manor and headed back for the house by the lake, and concern dogs his heels now as he follows Bruce down the corridor.
Nothing for it, really.)
"Considering the state of things from the last Wildcats v Meteors game," Clark says, presently, "my vote's for cards, next go."
Obviously, they're not going to talk about their feelings.