( in the night ) ic inbox

[uplifters]

@ kent landmark, rm. 404 "Hi! This is Clark Kent. Unfortunately, I'm not here right now, so please leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks for calling!" text | voice | action | etc.

Comments

[uplifters]

Oh, I... [ He wracks his brains, as if expending a genuine amount of energy to think of anything he could possibly need from him. Then it hits him, and he lets out a soft 'oh' that's coupled with the raising of his index finger, as if telling Bruce to wait, wait right there!.

He rises from his seat, nearly stumbling on his way to the kitchen, but at least he manages to put the memory card into his pocket as he messes up his steps to keep it safe. He hadn't been lying; he'll definitely make that request of his happen.

When Clark reappears, he has a plate with three corn muffins on it, the plate small enough that around the muffins is about an inch and a half left of plate to keep them from falling off. The muffins are sweet, freshly baked; they definitely explain the pleasant smell that'd covered the whole of the apartment. Clark's covered the whole thing in cling wrap to protect the goods from the outside, because his intentions for them with regards to Bruce are: ] Take some. [ He's smiling as he says it, holding the plate out in two hands. ] I m-made too much. You'd be doing me a favour helping me finish them.

The corn was canned, though. Fair warning. [ Just like the one Bruce gave him before the stew, remember?

Clark Kent never forgets. ]

[pearlstrings]

[This isn't. What he'd been expecting.

Nothing about Clark Kent had gone as expected and Bruce, who has spent considerable time and effort and energy on learning how to anticipate the future, how to predict the people around him and course correct in the moment- finds is deeply offputting. He'd said it in part as a formality, an attempt to be polite and express a measure of gratitude. Favors are a currency in and of themselves in Gotham, and his understanding of Kent to this point has led him to believe that whatever the ask might be, the price was likely to be a small one.

He wasn't expecting muffins.
Bruce looks at the plate, wrong-footed.

His hands move on reflex, before he makes a conscious decision to take them- but it does nothing to keep wipe the perplexed crease between his brows.]

You really do prefer to keep busy. [A beat.] Thank you.

[His hands find the plate, and then it too, becomes a bouquet of flowers. Bruce looks at it. He doesn't sigh, but he does exhale a little longer than he would otherwise.]

[uplifters]

Oh--! [ Clark jumps back at the sudden change from food to bouquet, his hands lifted close to his mouth and his fingers curled in towards his palms. The surprise fades easy, though, and his hands drop as he moves forward, landing on his knees to anchor him as he bends down and takes the flowers in.

He fixes his glasses, what with how they'd been jostled in his jump. ] That's just like the c-card, huh. [ Which means the whole thing is probably harmless. Not ideal, of course, but harmless, and as long as Bruce is okay, Clark supposes he is, too.

But the sad fact remains: ] Gosh, I hope you get to eat them somehow.

[pearlstrings]

[Clark visibly startles at the transformation, and Bruce suspects he might have done the same- if he hadn't been through this already. Instead of shock or awe, his expression just seems... tired. As if magic tricks like this are an everyday occurrence. He can be comforted by two details at least. That he only asked one question this time, and that he isn't blue. Dr Ingram had been an unfortunate sight, to say the least.]

I'm sure I'll manage.

[Somehow this does not sound optimistic- just long suffering. The flowers lift just a little, as he begins to climb to his feet.]

The effects only last for a month, either way.

Thank you for seeing me. [His gaze flicks away, in the direction of the card.] And for that.