Little things: ubiquity of sweatpants, not having to answer the door and contend with socialite celebrity recognition roulette, the way Clark's voice muffles with a mystery veggie fritter in his mouth. He can smell freshly fried oil and hummus, and a breeze of ocean air through windows opened variously through the place. No more scorched ozone from flying a mach 30 back from the Virgin Islands, though the bed where he shoves pillows towards the headboard carries mingled remnants of the both of them.
Bruce appears in the kitchen similarly clothed, fetching a few cans of native beer out of the fridge, and going 'mm', which sounds like agreement-acknowledgment. Closes the fridge door with a knee, explains, "I tickied the 'allergy' box."
They probably prepare all meat on the same grill, so. Nuclear non-seafood option, as even though he thinks Clark would probably have been fine with chicken braised on a flat top that used to have shrimp on it, Bruce Wayne does not do things by halves, even ordering munchies off Yelp. Considerate of the restaurant to have the option, in any event.
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Bruce appears in the kitchen similarly clothed, fetching a few cans of native beer out of the fridge, and going 'mm', which sounds like agreement-acknowledgment. Closes the fridge door with a knee, explains, "I tickied the 'allergy' box."
They probably prepare all meat on the same grill, so. Nuclear non-seafood option, as even though he thinks Clark would probably have been fine with chicken braised on a flat top that used to have shrimp on it, Bruce Wayne does not do things by halves, even ordering munchies off Yelp. Considerate of the restaurant to have the option, in any event.
"Good?" Since he's already eating.