Clark has something to say

Clark tried to control himself to look away, but his eyes would always be drawn to Bruce, and in the end, he simply stared at him intently.

Bruce is eating ice cream.

Clark could see that he was eating very seriously, and he was a little bit reluctant to part with it. Each bite of Bruce's bite was not large, but the ice cream was just that small. After a while, there was only a cone left.

Bruce looked at the cone, frowned and bit down.

Rarely did Clark not think about regime-related matters. His Supreme Head of State was actually quite exhausting. After the Metropolis nuclear bombing, Superman completely stuffed the entire world into a bottle, and no one was allowed to make deviant behavior.

This also means that the courier will report to him about some decent things. Diana is too lazy to listen to human voices, so naturally she is not interested in these things. In this way, he will be even busier.

The screen on the podium in the Hall of Justice lights up.

A guard in uniform appeared inside and gave a formal salute: "Supreme Head of State."

He wanted to report the movement of the rebels to the Supreme Head of State, but when he saw the enemy who was wanted by the whole world sitting in the Hall of Justice, his voice stopped and he was suddenly at a loss.

Diana stopped applying the medicine and said lightly, "What's the matter."

The guard bit the bullet: "We found traces of the activities of the rebels in the R67 area..."

In order to completely eliminate disputes, the Injustice Alliance reorganized everything in the old world, marked areas with codes, and redistributed resources.

If differences lead to disputes, that makes the world homogeneous.

Clark subconsciously looked at Bruce.

Bruce gnawed on the cone without any abnormality, as if he didn't hear anything. Clark listened and found that Bruce's heartbeat was not disturbed at all.

Diana nodded: "Understood."

The screen was turned off, and Wonder Woman straightened the noose around her waist: "Carl, I'll deal with them, you stay here."

deal with.

Emotionless words, as if they weren't talking about living humans but inanimate objects, Bruce thought.

She touched Bruce's face again with great concern: "You are too thin, you need a good rest."

Bruce responded normally.

He swallowed the last fragment of the cone, but his empty stomach did not feel full because of it, but tightened a little. Although he had no appetite, he still looked at Clark and said softly, "I'm hungry."

He didn't know when they would turn against each other. Since he could still get preferential treatment right now, of course he couldn't waste it.

Clark was stunned for a moment, then nodded: "I'll do it."

It is not easy to find serious food in the Hall of Justice. Kryptonians can maintain their physical functions by absorbing the energy of the yellow sun. Wonder Woman is a demigod. Super soldiers can also meet their energy needs with injections of potions.

Batman's old room contained only a cabinet of snacks. Old Love was no match for the former not for the hungry and weak and the latter for ordinary humans.

The Hall of Justice couldn't find anything that ordinary people could eat.

Good thing he's Superman.

It took less than half a second to go to the nearest supermarket with super speed to bring back the ingredients and environment equipment. After returning, Clark used the communicator to order his subordinates to pay him the corresponding amount—he had completely divorced from human society, and naturally had no cash.

Bruce came over: "You want to grill steak?"

He familiarly went to look for the grill behind the podium. When Billy brought the grill over, it was written all over his face that he had taken a big deal.

Naturally, the grill wasn't there long ago, and out of a very delicate state of mind, Clark didn't stop him either.

Bruce stood up straight and paused: "Oh, you threw it away."

Clark lowered his eyes and began to clean the brand-new kitchen utensils. Bruce stood aside and watched. This perspective was very familiar. The last meal he ate with Clark was also made by Clark himself.

Is a beautifully renovated kitchen in Wayne Manors.

Ah Fu had something to do at the last minute, and the little reporter didn't hesitate for a moment for his own stomach, and directly took over the job of cooking, but there were countless kitchen utensils of different sizes and shapes in the kitchen, many of which he had never even seen before.

Bruce stood aside watching his jokes in his spare time.

In fact, he didn't know what these things were for, and he didn't expect Clark to be able to cook at the level of a chef.

But it doesn't prevent him from making some messy requests.

"Seafood is fried with Italian olive oil, chives, and cheese. Add more cheese. The surface of the Wellington steak cannot be hardened, and the inside should remain pink but not bloody..."

The little reporter looked at him blankly, and muttered in a low voice, "Why don't we go out to eat."

Clark tried as hard as he could, in Kryptonian fashion.

The heat vision is adjusted to the right temperature, and the god on earth, who can push the planet, releases the heat vision a little comically, carefully staring at the steak in the pot, heating up bit by bit.

It didn't turn pink in the end.

Baby Brucey, who was spoiled by the old housekeeper to have extremely high standards for food, poked the meat on the silver plate with a fork: "Do you want to hear my evaluation?"

The little reporter was a little annoyed at being picked on: "I said we can go out—"

"delicious."

Clark's eyes widened in an instant.

Bruce chewed the steak slowly, while flicking his calf with his toes: "But I don't want to eat something fried with heat vision next time."

The ears of the young man in the town suddenly turned red. He was silent for a moment, then stood up suddenly: "I'll make a copy for myself."

When he left, Bruce touched the side of his face indiscriminately, feeling like he had swallowed a rubber band.

Clark really has no idea about the hardness of human teeth - the steak is too old, of course it doesn't matter to the Kryptonians who can bite through steel, but Bruce almost doubts that his teeth will be bitten off.

He still remembers that the steak was a bit dark brown in appearance, and the heat was steaming from it. He almost used the strength of Batman to cut it. The table knife was a little blunt, and Ah Fu had to buy a new one when he came back. .

Now Clark was still frying steaks with the heat sight.

Today's god on earth is very familiar with using thermal vision, his face is serious, his eyes are blood red.

Bruce blinked, and the blurry figure was replaced by the man in front of him. He stared at the crimson cloak for a while, then went back to sit down.

**

The table in the Hall of Justice is used by the Justice League for meetings. It is a large round table. Bruce is used to declaring sovereignty over his own items, so he returned to the position where Batman always stayed.

Clark sat down next to him, which was Superman's seat.

There was only one piece of food on the table, and there was nothing in front of Clark. The god on earth was used to not eating, but he did not leave, intending to finish the meal with Bruce.

Bruce pressed the knife in his hand hard, lowered his head: "Bring me another plate."

Clark didn't move: "What are you doing?"

For Batman's request, Clark was not stingy at all to use his brain. Bruce couldn't ask him for an item without any purpose.

The plate was the porcelain plate he brought back from the supermarket. Even with a super brain, he couldn't figure out how to use the porcelain plate for a while.

...It's impossible to break it into pieces and use it as a weapon. Bruce can't touch ordinary humans at all, and this thing is useless to them.

But he didn't hear Bruce's answer, like it was a trivial matter, and he cut the steak slowly, and Clark remembered the cracked shoulder bone under X's gaze.

Bruce was quiet, his dining posture was as elegant as ever, and there were nine sets of tableware.No sound will be produced.

The super hearing of the god on earth could capture the little creaking sound, and he felt upset again, so he stood up, took a porcelain plate, and walked back: "Here you are."

He continued: "You know everything you use, I check."

Bruce raised his head and glanced at him, something flashed quickly in his pupils, he lowered his head again, cut half of the steak on the plate, put it on the empty plate, and pushed it in the direction of the god on earth.

Then, he didn't have any communication-no verbal, no physical.

Clark felt his muscles tense, and he didn't know how to respond to Bruce's actions.

He moved his lips, wanting to ask something, but looking at Bruce, he felt that he shouldn't ask.

Even more upset.

Obviously the entire planet is his now, Batman is already his prisoner, and the fragile throat of human beings can be cut off as long as he stretches out his hand, but when they get along, he is still not the dominant one.

Instinctively, he didn't want to talk about it, even though they actually had a lot of problems to solve, not just the Injustice League, they still had things to talk about besides business.

But that doesn't fit Batman's pattern of behavior, and he knows Bruce, a man who picks people when they're least defensive.Give him another blow, every word has a purpose, every action has a deep meaning, no one knows what his dark head is planning.

Under normal circumstances, Bruce would absolutely use all his means to learn from his language. Language itself is a weapon, and Batman is a master of this weapon.

But what did Batman do?

He is stuck here with his own boring ideas that have no place to be placed, and is an out of place decoration in the Juyi Hall.

Clark stared uncertainly at the plate, as if a time bomb lay there, until the steak was no longer steaming, and Bruce had almost finished the salad.

He slowly cut off a corner, and at this moment, the artificial intelligence in the Hall of Justice beeped.

Diana walked in with a calm expression, and immediately looked into their room. Seeing Clark's movements, she smiled slightly.

Clark put his hands down and asked knowingly, "Is there any trouble?"

Diana shook her head casually. Her pace was a little faster. She wanted to come back when she was suppressing the rebels outside, so the efficiency of this operation was greatly accelerated.

She dragged a chair and sat down next to Bruce. Noticing the man's uneasy expression, she reached out and pressed his forehead to him: "You need an antibiotic injection."

Bruce paused imperceptibly, glanced down, and found a spot of blood that hadn't clotted on Diana's boot heel.

Wonder Woman's hair wasn't messy at all, almost the same as when she went out just now.

Except for the strong bloody smell on his body.