New Beginning. Unlimited Potential.
Roleplaying Log: New Beginning. Unlimited Potential.
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Stark unveils his registration plans. It's selling Stark Industries.

Other Characters Referenced: Pepper Potts, Karen Starr, Lex Luthor, AVengers
IC Date: February 09, 2019
IC Location: Metropolis, Stark Unlimited Cafe
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 09 Feb 2019 08:16
Rating & Warnings:
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

NOT LONG AFTER THE FIRST OF THE YEAR …
Clark Kent watches Lois walk away from his desk after their brief holiday catch-up. He blinks, shoulders lumping more, and head falling forward as he fixes his gaze to the scuffed tips of his brown Oxfords. Anyone around might think that, by his body-language, the meeting between Clark and Lois had ended on a sour note but those who know him well would know that most of their conversations end that way.

With, Clark Kent backed into an ideological corner he can't talk his way out of…

After a few moments he turns slowly and pulls his rolling chair out from beneath his desk before settling back into it with a groan. From his right hand he sets a stack of business cards which have been binder clipped together into the desk drawer before reaching into his jacket pocket.

He had given Lois the business card for Alias Investigations but concealed the one she would really be interested in from view. He regretted the bit of deception but knew that if she had seen it she would have talked him out of it — and he wasn't willing to violate Jessica's trust to not have a twinge of guilt.

He moves his thumb across its raised lettering:
STARK ENTERPRISES
Tony Stark
STARK Unlimited
o: 212-555-8669

Except that above it, in pen, another number has been scrawled 'Direct Line' and then a number. Lifting the receiver of his phone he dials.

"Hello," the journalist begins, "My name is Clark Kent with the Daily Planet. I'm trying to get in touch with Tony Stark — Jessica Jones gave me this number. I'd like to set up a time to—"

* * *

The voice that had come at the other end of the line was sharp, a staccato assault upon the ears. "Jess gave a /reporter/ my number? Alright boyo you must have impressed her, or maybe she just hates me. Sure you want to chat? Happy to chat. Since I'm new in town and all…"

There had been a crash of some kind of explosion.

"…I'll call ya back though. Apparently Hydra objects to me taking personal calls."

…and that had been the introduction to Tony Stark.

The date and time had been set though, a bit of a cafe near where Stark was currently building his new place. Just on the corner, far enough away from the noise that it wouldn't be too much of a bother. Close enough that the high privacy walls and slowly growing tower is fairly obvious in the background.

It is lunch, later lunch at least. The man himself sitting at a seat near the window, relaxing with a coffee of some kind. Dressed in a suit that looks thrown on and perfectly tailored all at once. The faint glow of the ARC reactor in his chest visible though the cloth as a faint pulse. A hum on the edge of hearing coming from the energy source that keeps him alive. Hair perfect, beard hardly a hair out of place, dark sunglasses covering most reactions to most people. Stark sits and waits.

Looking like everyone else.

…as he tinkers with some kind of holographic set of plans that float ghostlike in the air over the table.

…ok maybe not like everyone else.

* * *

Outside, a gray compact with a car with a 'LexRyde sticker' in the window separates from traffic and pulls up to the curb. The back passenger side door opens a businessman in a brown suit and long heavy coat struggles his way out onto the curb. He pivots briefly and bends over saying something the driver and then stands again closing the door.

He turns, but nearly tips mid motion, momentum halted by the hem of his overcoat which is somehow caught in the car door. He looks to pull, object, and the car starts forward. There is a shout. The businessman attempts to run with the car for several paces and gives a wide flail of his leather satchel against his window. Shouting more.

"Oh my god," someone in the cafe says and immediately cell phones go up to memorialize the entire affair.

The car stops. The businessman opens the door, freeing himself, seems to apologize to the driver and then closes the door again — carefully this time. Now upon the curb he inhales and looks at the cafe before heading for the door.

*DING-A-LING*

The cafe door gives a muted electronic sound as that same man enters. He's mopping his brow with a handkerchief he explores the interior with eyes that are two-sizes two large behind his thick spectacle frames. It doesn't take him long to find Stark. He reaches upward, as if trying to grab the ceiling, and waves the handkerchief like a white flag before heading that way.

Clark Kent is a large fellow. His height concealed beneath wide stooping shoulders and a slouched posture but there's no mistaking the overall mass. The steps he takes across the cafe are a heavy artless plod. Overweight, paunchy at the middle, he is still sweating from the ordeal and when he reaches Tony his meek-but-friendly smile broken at its center as he breathes a bit heavy through parted lips. His suit looks a bit worn having seen constant use since he bought it off the department store rack two years ago.

He doesn't immediately introduce himself. This is the City of Tomorrow but — holographic plans? Eyes are as wide as saucers for a moment as he takes in the man and his machine. Then, realizing the awkwardness, he shifts his briefcase from one hand to the other and reaches out.

"Tony Stark," the businessman says, needing another breath before he continues, "Clark Kent."

* * *

The 'oh my god' gets his attention and Stark just watches bemusedly at the antics outside. Of course then the man plods in and…

…oh god /that/ is who Jess sent him?

Slowly the phone goes back into the pocket. Most people would feel slightly bad for that, but most people aren't Tony Stark. Instead there is a grin as the man stands, looking up towards the reporter even though said reporter is slouchy.

One hand waves almost dismissively as the hologram disappears. "Have problems with transportation, Clark?" Stark asks as he stares at the offered hand. He stares almost long enough to be awkward before he sighs. "You're a big one aren't ya?" A longer pause. "Urgh, I don't have Pepper to do the whole handshake for me anymore…" he mutters before reaching out to almost awkwardly take the offered hand and give it a shake.

It's not exactly strong, Stark isn't one to go for strength games, but the nanomachines in his blood make it…slightly odd. Slightly warmer than normal. Possibly why Stark isn't bundled up as much as some people.

…or he's just eccentric.

"So! Clark, and just call me Tony because if Jess referred you she already vetted you well enough for me, have a seat. What did you want to talk about?" He asks as he lazily waves towards the booth opposite him.

* * *

"Problem?" Clark says quizzically and then his eye flash to the window, "Oh," the exasperated smile fades slightly as embarrassment flushes across his features, "Yeah, sorry." He says having nothing really to apologize for but just feeling like maybe that's the appropriate response particularly when he feels the lingering stares of others.

Sharp inhale. His features once again try on a smile that seems more professional than sweating and out of breath. There's a questioning look to his gaze at the mention of 'Pepper'. Like on the table? He can't help but think as they hands press together. Clark's grip is unremarkable - neither strong nor particularly weak though his hand is a bit wet and clammy from the sweating.

When they let go he glances regretfully down and tries to discreetly wipe the sweat from his palm as he answers the question that has been posed, "Well," he pulls the seat out and shifts to sit. The man gives a slight groan, weight and age beginning to make getting up and down a mild struggle, "Ms. Jones-ahh-Jessica, said that you had something you wanted to say about Metahuman Registration."

He puts the satchel between him and the table, jostling the whole thing, as he pulls out first a small note pad and then a tiny tape recorder. Knee bumps the table as he puts the satchel on the floor, "Registration," Clark repeats opening the note pad and then picking up the recorder, "Do you mind?" He asks as courtesy before they dive into this.

* * *

"Something I wanted to say about Registration," There is a smirk as Stark wipes the sweat from his own hand without any kind of discretion. "Yup that answers that, Jess hates me. I was wondering which one it was." The inventor replies as he waves Clark to a seat. "Go ahead and order something if you want. My treat."

The billionaire pauses though at the appearance of the recorder. "Oh this is gonna get me into so much trouble." He says, a wicked grin ticking up into existence. "JARVIS? Might as well call Babs and warn her." Relaxing back though, one arm up on the back of the booth as he shrugs. "Go ahead though, that seems to be the hot topic on everyone's tongue these days it seems."

* * *

Clark reaches out and picks the tape recorder up with his hand just long enough to hit 'record'. The tiny reels on the micro-cassette begin to turn as he lies it back down upon the table.

At the offer of food he looks down at the menu and then reaches to adjust the stem of his glasses, "Thank you," but doesn't crack it open. There's a beat of nervousness because Jessica had made it sound like Tony had an announcement but he tries to hide it by taking a timid sip from the glass of ice water on the table.

Looking back at Tony then Clark clears his voice and begins again, "I think before we talk about everyone else I'd like to ask you how it could have effected you," Clark says, "Setting Ironman aside there's some elements of the law that seem a bit," Clark's face scrunches as he tries to think of what to say, "Unclear?"

"As a noted futurist who implanted himself with a device to save his own life. Something that was is not," pause, "or at least was not approved by the FDA. Well, I think to a lot of supporters of the law would classify that as cybernetic enhancement. What effect do you think being subject to registration has on individuals, like yourself, who might undergo experimental life-saving procedures or prosthesis? And if the scope of the law expands what impacts do you see for the research efforts of companies like Stark Industries who may be subject to new regulation for trying to advance medical science?"

* * *

The inventor likes keeping people off balance. Maybe its just his way of coping. Maybe its just his manner. Maybe he doesn't even realize he's doing it. It is just old habit by now. There is a slight smile on his face though at the question.

"Unclear," There is a snort as he reaches for his coffee. "Yeah. That is way understating things. They are going to be locked up in litigation for years over it I'm sure. They being the government that passed this law in the first place of course."

He taps the side of the ceremic mug for a moment in though. "…you know what, Clark right?" A breath of a pause that doesn't let the poor reporter respond with more than an eyeblink. "You know what, Clark." A flash of a grin then. "I think I know why Jess sent you to me. I think. See…I haven't made a public announcement of a few things and I think, because you actually changed me down and called me all polite like, I'll go ahead and give you the scoop. That alright with you?"

A flash of a grin again that almost says 'one time offer here take it or leave it'.

"But for the question, yeah. It /is/ enough cybernetic enhancement to make me register. Which I did. By law. Following the law. Which most people thought I wouldn't do. Even if I didn't agree with it."

He pauses again for a moment.

"I think…well…for people like me? I didn't really have a choice to get this metal in me. It was that or die, and I'm way too pretty to die." A pause. "Or petty to die. Depends on who you ask really."

He shifts slightly though. "And I don't much like the idea of the regulation that could come from it, I'm not really shy about saying that much. Especially when it comes to people who could benefit from the medical procedures."

* * *

'Clark right?'

Clark nods in affirmation of his name, "Yes sir," he replies earnestly to the question.

There's not a beat of shock when Tony reveals he's been registered. Truthfully, Clark never considered that Tony or anyone who was in the public eye would engage in civil disobedience. In Clark's mind the arrest or the asset forfeiture would be swift and immediate and the focus on whether or not the law was technically broken would become the focus rather than whether or not the law itself was just.

"So what will you do?" Clark asks him, "I think, for most people, the answer would be 'what can I do' because they don't have the resources to lose their job or the courage to take up a mantle like Ironman. I hear your objection. So is the act of registration the end of it for you?"

* * *

Clark isn't far off.

The wolves had been at the door, ready to sieze Stark assets and take the bounty of Stark's mind for themselves. It had been one of the reasons that Stark had done what he's done.

"Yeah well, the answer to 'what can I do' for me has always been different." A pause for a moment before he draws a deep breath. "No, its more of a beginning. A beginning of what I have no idea. Understanding maybe? A little less fear. Hopefully that's the endgame."

There is a thoughtful look from the mucurial inventor before he looks back towards Clark. "Stark Industries started with my dad, he made weapons for a reason. Then he passed it on to me and I continued the family tradition." A rueful smirk at that. "And yes, I'm registered but that doesn't mean I agree with it. So I'll do what I can to fight it if people try to push it as a Federal law. Not much I can do about whats been done, but I can at least try to not let it go further."

A smirk.

"And the scoop for you, well. I like to make big statements. So…as of last month I'm no longer majority shareholder or owner of Stark Industries." A flash of a grin at that. "Gave it away." A beatpause. "…and put somewhere in those notes that Pepper Potts." Ah. There is the Pepper reference. "Still /runs/ the company and they still have use of much of the tech I designed. So the shares don't completely tank." A smirk at that. "Hell, I'm pretty sure most of the board was /glad/ I wasn't helming that ship anymore."

* * *

Kent nods a bit when Tony asserts that he has always been different. At the idea people are afraid he gives Stark a weak, but genuine, smile as if silently agreeing with that assessment, "I was just telling someone," he says breaking a cardinal rule of a good journalist by putting his own beliefs into the this, "That everyone wants to make a list out of the people or things they're afraid of," he exhales slowly the tip of his belly settling at the edge of the table, "and that if you'd just take a minute and walk a mile in someone's shoes before writing their name down you might find out that — for the most part — we're all after the same things."

He gauges Tony for a moment there admittedly curious to how Tony Stark takes folksy Smallville wisdom.

The reveal about the company changes Kent's demeanor and he reaches for the ballpoint pin fettered in the spiral spine of the notepad. His lips move in silent utterance of 'Pepper Potts' as he writes the name down. "So," Clark suddenly gives himself a bit of DejaVu, "What will you do?"

"My dad always said that when you run a successful business that no matter how hard you try to hide from the work — it will always find you."

"You've liquidated your shares. You must have a plan for all of those idle hours."

* * *

"Most of us, yeah." Stark smirks for a moment. "I mean its true. I only really get worried by that sliver of /not/ most of us. That are after a Cosmic Cubes, or Uru metals, or synthetic Kryptonite, or portals to different dimensions that they can fuse to this one. So I suppose my sense of balance is way off on this one."

He raises a hand to get a refill, ordering his thoughts on the question thats been asked as the waitress hurries over to fill it. The woman smiles at both of them before giving Kent a look. "Anything I can get you, sugar?" She drawls out with a bright smile that seems honest.

She seems to be having a good day.

"Well," Stark decides quick enough on an answer. "Besides the whole Avengers gig, which makes sure I don't have that many idle hours…" He taps on the glass of the window to the new construction site. "…that one? That one is mine. Stark Unlimited. Entirely new company, based in Metropolis. I'll happily take my business to a different state if New York isn't that happy with me anymore." There is a wicked gleam in his eye. "I'm sure it'll make some tax man cry when they find that out. I /hope/ it will. But then again I've been called petty." A beatpause. "Not without reason."

He turns his head to glance at the window towards the slowly climbing building. "It'll be a smaller company, something to focus on things beyond weapons. Medical tech, energy tech, a bit of a fresh start and I'm hoping to work with a few companies in Metropolis to get a little head start." A smirk. "And not overlap too much with my father's company. That would just be rude."

What with them paying him for all the patents for the tech he designed.

* * *

'Cosmic Cubes, Uru Metals, Synthetic Kryptonite …'

At each word Clark's eyes get a little larger. He doesn't understand what all the danger is but the alien nature of them, the implication of destruction, seems to put him a bit on edge. His building terror though is suspended when the waitress knocks him out of his thoughts, "Oh?" He looks to the waitress, to Stark, and then back, "Coffee?" Ken says immediately realizing that he didn't need to ask, "Coffee lots of cream and sugar."

The waitress smiles, cheery, and gives a slight glance to the little wire basket which contains several varieties of sweetener, "Sure," he says putting her finger trips to his shoulder before departing.

The tapping of the glass draws his attention to the window. As he moves the chair scooches its legs moving upon the floor with a SCRAPE as he looks out the window to see the new construction, "Golly," he says, "Moving to Metropolis? Lex Luthor won't like that." He says more to himself than to Stark.

"What companies are you working with?" Kent seems slightly more energetic as things continue to unfold. His foot begins tapping gently on the leg of the table's stand causing it to vibrate slightly.

"The Avengers," Clark recalls then, "Will they be moving to Metropolis also? In protest, I mean."

* * *

"Yeah I've been trying to get a meeting with ol' Lex since I started building. I mean I'm sure he knows already, I'm pretty sure he owned the land I bought." Stark shakes his head at that. "I can figure a way to work with him though. He seems reasonable."

…poor Stark. Poor. Poor Stark.

"Right now I'm planning on working with Luthor and Karen Starr on a few ventures. I've already talked to Karen," A flash of a grin. "I like her. She doesn't take my bullshit."

The man /does/ kind of like that in a working partner.

"As for the Avengers, no they are staying right where they are. And I'm still a member. This is all just a personal choice, each of the Avengers have their own minds to make up and I'm not going to be one to make them up for them. Or even try to. No, the Avengers will stay in New York, the'll work with SHIELD and the new government group. The law is still the law, and the Avengers, including me, will still do our best to uphold it. Hell I hope it all works out in the end."

* * *

"Lex has done a lot for this city," Clark says in support of Luthor's reasonableness, "I'm sure having both of you here will just make things even better."

The coffee arrives with a little porcelain creamer. The waitress even sets down a handful of sugar packets, despite the carrier on the table, a testament to her professionalism.

"Cousin Karen?" Clark gives Stark a dopey grin. He wouldn't have brought it up except that he has trouble keeping secrets and he wouldn't want Stark and Karen to somehow bring up this conversation, or the article that will follow, and it turn out he hadn't made the connection, "Growing up she used to keep us all in line at the reunions." Though it probably doesn't take much to keep Clark in line.

He writes something else down then 'Avengers = New York = SHIELD = ..', "New government group?" Clark asks absently underlining the blank space after the last 'equals'.

* * *

"Wait wait wait, hold on. /Cousin/." Stark sits up /now/. Of course he does. It involves a pretty woman. "You're Karen Starr's cousin?" He just pauses as he processes that little tidbit. "…well damn, they do grow em big where you're from. Where is that anyway?" The man asks with a flash of a grin. "Midwest somewhere? I'm getting that vibe here…" f
This is of course when some of the oddities that swirl around one Tony Stark might present themselves to Clark Kent. Specifically the odd energy patterns that suffuse the man. Bending in ways only wifi does. The super tech nature of the glasses he wears obvious to anyone with the right eyes to see.

Supertech glasses that are now lit up with communications as Stark calls out a half-dozen searches to JARVIS using nothing but the nanotech in his blood and his own thoughts. It isn't laid as bare as it was when this happened with Karen in the room, he's learned sense then, but the fact that he's having some kind of technopathic conversation is at least obvious enough.

Because of course he is.

"Oh yeah, the new law provided for the creation of a new agency to regulate it. Kinda needed one since nothing really was set up to handle anything like what they are wanting."

A pause again.

"You know, its totally not usual to ask questions of reporters. I'm told its totally rude, but I'm going to do it anyway. What's your views on it? I mean both you, you. And Metropolis in general. I mean you're the ear to the pavement type right? What's the word on it?"

* * *

Clark's grin widens a bit his shoulders sagging slightly as his frame relaxes, "Osage County, Kansas." Kent replies, "Smallville." His time in Metropolis has weakened his midland accent some but someone with even a fair ear for such things can make out that he's not originally from the east coast, especially when it's made plain.

What can Clark perceive? Early on he became an expert at filtering out the distractions of the Kansas. With the ability to see minute changes in air pressure or listen to particles of water vapor brushing against each other in the clouds over his head it had taken practice to gain proficiency but nothing had quite prepared him for the big city.

In Metropolis it wasn't the sound of eleven million people that took Kal-El time to grow accustomed to but the fact that every particle of the air is suffused by radio signals which emanate from nearly every electronic device in this "smart" city. He learned to filter that too but has described it, to those who have cared to listen, as "a lot like driving a car".

ONCE..
"Have you ever been driving from one place to another and all of the sudden you wonder how you got there without having an accident because you didn't think you were paying any attention at all?" Superman once explained, "You were taking it all in on a subconscious level. As long as you're watching the road you'll see the car in front of you hit its breaks — even if you didn't realize you were even watching."

"It's a lot like that. I see and hear the things I need to because they're out of the ordinary. As long as I'm paying attention I'll always see what I need to — even if I don't realize I'm watching at all."
..NOW

And so as the area around Stark lights up with a flurry of unusual electromagnetic energy all that you'd see Clark do is look down at his coffee and blow across its surface before picking the cup up and putting it to his lips.

Clark sips his coffee, sputtering when asked his view.

"Me?" Clark repeats picking up the napkin and running it across the dribble of coffee on the table, "I dunno," he confesses, "Gun lists. No fly lists. I'm not a big believer in lists," beat pause, "unless they're Christmas lists."

"So I hadn't really thought about what it means because it doesn't affect me," Clark says sounding a twinge remorseful, "Which I think makes me like most people but not in a way I'd like to be. Until Jessica told me people were wanting to move to Metropolis over it all I hadn't thought about why everyone was so scared. Everyone thinks when they're going on a list that someone is out to get them.."

"I hope that's not the case," Clark admits, "I think when people are scared of something or are hurt by something they think writing it down with everything else they're afraid of will somehow make them safer." Thick fingers reach up and scratch the crown of his head, "I don't know what the numbers say, Mr. Stark." Pause, "but I do know that the best way for people to learn to work together isn't by always trying to pull each other apart. There are bad things in this world and bad people — but its not one time of person. If it were me?" Clark stops scratching his head and shrugs his stooped shoulders, "I dunno, my Ma and Pa taught me that if you have a problem with someone you've never talked to it's best to have them over for dinner. It's the easiest way to get to see eye-to-eye."

Blinking there, "I like to think that's how Metropolis feels. We've had as many crisis as New York over the years and most people I know here hate the thought of registering for anything unless it's the new LexPhone."

* * *

"Smallville. Seriously. Is that an actual place, JARVIS is that an actual place?" Stark asks with a smirk as he cants his head slightly to one side. The reply from the AI is too quiet for most to hear but there is a shake of his head. "Well what do ya know, it is." Eyes shift back towards Clark from behind those shades of his. "…and are you for real?" A pause. "I mean actually real, and now a skrull or something? Because I sware you sound like you stepped out of a sitcom from the fifties." A pause. "Not that its a bad thing, its just pretty shocking that people like that still exist and I've seen some pretty shocking things in my time."

Stark. Not the master of tact or compliments.

A shake of his head though before he gives the reporter a grin. "Well I'm not gonna disagree on the nature of lists. Though I'm maybe a bit more cynical on it all." You put that many metas on one list and someone is going to try to use it for something.

Its the nature of the beast.

He pauses for a moment. "You know a lot of old sayings, Kent? How bout 'just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't out to get me'. I'm pretty sure some of the groups that people want to put on that list feel exactly like that. Good reason too. Some people are angry, and some people are scared, and when that happens both types tend to lash out and blame something else. Lots of people can take advantage of that to be those bad people you're talking about."

He drains the last of his coffee then before he glances back towards Clark.

"For what its worth? I'm glad Metropolis still feels like that. Maybe its cause you trust your heroes more, than New Yorkers. Maybe its something else I don't know, but I hope you don't loose that shine."

A pause.

"Oh god, your corniness is catching. I can't believe I just said that."

* * *

"If I were a Skrull would I tell you?" Clark squints a bit there behind the thick lenses of his glasses the sardonic reply seemingly a good-natured way of appreciating both the compliment that was intended but also the less than tactful way it was presented.

"I wouldn't begin to dispute you," Clark says, "Paranoid or not aren't we all already on a list somewhere? I dunno," Kent says, "Sometimes I'm glad I never got more social media savvy than a myspace page in college but from the way people call my elderly parents — who only got wifi the year before last - I don't think that's protected me."

Clark cants his head slightly at the corniness and his features widen into a broad grin, "Shucks, Mr. Stark," he begins seeing Stark drain the last of his coffee and he gives his wristwatch a look. Their half-hour just expired and so Kent looks back up continuing, "huh, well I'd better let you get back to business before we go shopping for overalls." A wry smile as Kent scooches backwards and shifts to stand.

"It was a privilege to meet you and I just wanted to thank you — for all you've done to protect all of us. There's not many people in this world who can be anything they want to be. I'm not sure how many of us, if given that chance, would choose to serve others. So thank you."

He offers his hand once more.

* * *

"I suppose not," Stark replies with a shake of his head. "But I'm just gonna go with not and hope for the best." The inventor replies as he slides to his feet himself. "Yeah well, maybe we need more people who aren't that paranoid in the world, Smallville." He adds after a moment. "Which is now your name when it comes to me, get used to it."

A smirk again at that before suddenly he's being…thanked?

For the first time in the whole conversation there is suprize on his face. Honest shock. No one /ever/ thanks Tony Stark. No they are more likely to throw something at him. Or blame him for the latest explosion in the city. Or the latest weapon being used overseas. Stark /never/ gets thanked. Ever.

Paranoia is the first reaction. Wondering just what the hell the angle is. What the hell is the game this guy is playing. This isn't /normal/.

This is most assuredly strange.

The most alien thing Stark has dealt with in months, and he's dealt with actual aliens!

But he shakes himself, the speed of his mind recovering before things get /super/ awkward. So he takes the offered hand, lips twisting up in a smirk. "Yeah well when you have as much crushing guilt and daddy issues as I do there isn't that many jobs you can do." He can't ever be serious. It just isn't allowed. "And don't think me yet, Smallville. II might be the worst thing that happened to Metropolis. I didn't do New York any favors."

He pauses though before he nods.

"But I guess you're welcome?" A pause. "God that was awkward I'm gonna go now." He decalres are he releases the offered hand. "Don't worry about the check. I own the place." He adds casually as he starts to turn to head right on out the door. "They have good pastries."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License