"Uh huh," Clark says, holding his ground for the moment. "Maybe all this is your fault. Ever think about that?" Maybe the cursed cat was King Triton(?)'s final straw.

Ask him he if likes being looked at, given all the givens, and you'd probably get a hedgey kind of answer. Sure but who doesn't. Not in any special way. He spent plenty of time trying to pass invisibly through smalltown America that the searing attention that Superman gets makes for a hefty counterweight, all extremes, and somewhere in there was some guy who was quick to smile back if someone looked sideways.

But that's a little besides the point, and moreover: he discovered that he likes Bruce looking at him.

So the doofy humour seems to recede a little as Bruce heads on over, Clark's attention watching the track of his glance, and once in arms range he rolls his shoulder against the wall to turn and lead the way through to the bathroom. There, he wings on the tap to get the hot water thinking about happening.

"I like the beach," he volunteers, apropos of nothing, feeling the water temperature change. "The sea looks different when you're standing next to it. Like a friend, instead of how it actually is out there."