Whether or not they expect something, something exists. Shuffled in with the wrapped presents are two cards - each also wrapped in bright paper, and whether that's obtuseness or humor, who knows - one for Martha, containing a personal crash-course in stock market investing and silver sparkling bracelet that looks so spindly and delicate as to be alarming, almost, but through the wonders of engineering is perfectly sturdy. The second is for Shelby
no it's for Clark, and he doesn't get any jewelry. He gets a very thin tourist English-to-Tibetan phrasebook, and a printout detailing the makeup and potential useful applications of a half dozen alien minerals. Bruce does not have congress-approved-Luthor-level access to the crashed scout ship in Metropolis, but he has his ways, and his ways have allowed him to obtain samples and scans of material native to Krypton. Though he won't say so, it strikes him as sad that Clark's only weakness is a piece of rock from his own demolished home planet. A piece of himself, used to kill him. But kryptonite is not the only thing they have from that world, and what else they have could maybe make some very good lightbulbs, or contain hazardous material without risk of corrosion.
Not as glamorous as the bracelet. Bruce Wayne is not very glamorous, under the bespoke threads.
Bruce does not point these cards out, hoping against hope they'll wait to find them until he's gone-- because he will be gone, either before or just after more people arrive, not trusting himself to be acceptably social. For now he's ... an extra set of hands, whatever that means. Happy to do as he's instructed, even though he is an unmitigated disaster in anything resembling a kitchen, as Martha will soon discover if she needs him to so much as wield a butter knife. He does his best.
A benefit to having given up his alcohol-free lifestyle is being less concerned about what he eats, though he's still very fond of kale shakes. (The horror.) Ten years ago he'd balk at typical Christmas fare, sticking to greens and proteins while picking gingerly at carbohydrates and sugars. Fortunately, he doesn't have to be such a prick about it, today.
no subject
no it's for Clark, and he doesn't get any jewelry. He gets a very thin tourist English-to-Tibetan phrasebook, and a printout detailing the makeup and potential useful applications of a half dozen alien minerals. Bruce does not have congress-approved-Luthor-level access to the crashed scout ship in Metropolis, but he has his ways, and his ways have allowed him to obtain samples and scans of material native to Krypton. Though he won't say so, it strikes him as sad that Clark's only weakness is a piece of rock from his own demolished home planet. A piece of himself, used to kill him. But kryptonite is not the only thing they have from that world, and what else they have could maybe make some very good lightbulbs, or contain hazardous material without risk of corrosion.
Not as glamorous as the bracelet. Bruce Wayne is not very glamorous, under the bespoke threads.
Bruce does not point these cards out, hoping against hope they'll wait to find them until he's gone-- because he will be gone, either before or just after more people arrive, not trusting himself to be acceptably social. For now he's ... an extra set of hands, whatever that means. Happy to do as he's instructed, even though he is an unmitigated disaster in anything resembling a kitchen, as Martha will soon discover if she needs him to so much as wield a butter knife. He does his best.
A benefit to having given up his alcohol-free lifestyle is being less concerned about what he eats, though he's still very fond of kale shakes. (The horror.) Ten years ago he'd balk at typical Christmas fare, sticking to greens and proteins while picking gingerly at carbohydrates and sugars. Fortunately, he doesn't have to be such a prick about it, today.