The Beach Boys one is really good, it's true, as is the charming notion of the Wayne property hosting rescue zebras, but Clark misses it when the barely perceptible glitch in Bruce's heartbeat draws focus. This close, it'd be impossible not to, not when you can set your watch to Batman's ticker, and Clark has reflected before that the scope of people who can tolerate that particular level of attention is probably extraordinarily narrow. Lois and Bruce both being such.

Anyway. He turns his head around to look at Bruce, as if there'd be something in his expression he could read.

There isn't. Clark's own expression is that of interest, concern, a query stamped into the directness of his stare. His phone in his hand cheeps and tweets with tinny bird sounds, lowered an inch.

His free hand settles on Bruce's. He asks, "You okay?"