Clark has something to say

The antique clock in the bedroom ticks the minutes, and every time the hands move, there is a small click.

Clark turned his face slightly.

He kept his eyes on Bruce. The man looked calm and calm. He held the wine glass and took a sip from time to time. His movements were graceful.

Clark felt that he had absorbed something from the other party.

In their relationship, although Clark was always asked how you tolerated Batman, as if he was the one who was tolerant and considerate, it was actually the other way around, and what he learned from Bruce Far more than is given.

It's just that Bruce's unkindness and bad temper are easy to misunderstand.

Just like now, he showed the same reaction as usual, but Clark somehow got some comfort. He would rather have them yelling at him than everyone looking at a glass vessel destined to shatter. , asking him to atone for Kal-El's actions.

But Bruce's approach is the one that makes him the most comfortable now. Clark never thought that the bat-style calmness he has always disliked can actually produce the effect of a church confessional.

He doesn't judge or make comments, he just stays in this space, doing nothing quietly.

After a while, Bruce finished the glass of wine.

He returned to the wine cabinet and opened another unopened bottle of wine with a label that Clark had never seen before, but he could tell at a glance that it was expensive.

Then, he dragged another chair across from Clark, filled his glass, and drank leisurely.

There is only one cup on the table.

Even though Bruce had asked him before if he wanted some, he forgot to bring back an extra glass when he opened the new bottle.

Clark uncontrollably split his mind to guess what the other party was thinking.

They were dubbed the best partners in the world, but Clark knew that he hadn't really understood Bruce. Even though he could understand his current mood through the subtle changes in Bruce's expression, he knew Bruce's problems in all aspects, but He had never been able to touch the deeper parts of this man.

Even just now, Bruce seemed to be frank in explaining that future memory to him, and said that he would know everything without saying anything, but he still didn't open himself to Clark.

That part of Bruce Wayne himself that wasn't Batman, or Baby Brucey, but just himself, Clark still had no way of knowing.

"Can I?" Clark was thinking wildly with his eyes down, Bruce suddenly spoke next to him, he blinked sluggishly, watching Bruce pull out a cigar in a box from a drawer.

Using a pair of delicate and small cigar cutters, he cut off the two round ends quite skillfully.

"Go ahead... I didn't know you still smoked it," Clark said.

Clark suddenly noticed that the newly opened bottle of wine was half empty.

When is it free?He lost his mind slightly, but he could only think of Bruce's slow swallowing posture, the man's Adam's apple rolling up and down unhurriedly, Gotham tabloids once spent a lot of space describing this kind of "golden age decadence" appearance.

Clarke used to find these grandiose descriptions almost incomprehensible.

Now, he found that Bruce's outline looked even more handsome under the dark light, handsome to the point of sharpness, those blue eyes that made people dare not look at each other when he was Batman, precipitated a quiet color.

"You don't think all of Brucey's baby nonsense is fake." Bruce had a smile on his face, like Clark said something stupid: "Of course I would."

Of course not, Clark thought, it's just that when you actually get to know Batman, it's hard to connect the Gotham sweetheart to him.

And in the past, he participated in occasions where Bruce appeared as a reporter. At that time, the champagne in Bruce's hand was actually ginger cola, and there was never an exception, so he always thought that those ridiculous things were just Bruce's intention to cover up Batman's true identity. do the camouflage.

...So he misunderstood?

When the cigar was sucked by Bruce, the man's fingers paused, and he looked at the thing in his fingers, showing a critical look: "It's been left for a long time."

Then he continued to rummage in the small drawer.

In the carved drawer lay a lot of messy little things, such as beautiful shiny necklaces, hair elastics, crumpled silk handkerchiefs, used syringes, and Clark saw a huge diamond ring inside.

"A diamond ring?" he asked uncertainly.

This kind of jewelry has been endowed with an unusual meaning. At least Clark has dreamed of giving a diamond ring to someone he likes in the future since he was a child. Later, he decided to replace the diamond ring with a kryptonite ring. A small glowing circle pays homage.

Anyone who can come to this bedroom to rest must have Bruce's permission, and he doesn't think Bruce will mess with married people... He probably won't.

Bruce put the diamond ring aside casually, and said casually, "It's left by Serena."

Then his eyes lit up, and he finally found out a box of cigarettes - women's cigarettes, but he took out one indifferently, lit it, and put it in his mouth.

A sweet-smelling fragrance appeared in the air, and the white mist rose slowly, forming a strange shape.

"I want to talk about...these." Clark said suddenly.

It was an indescribable feeling, when he thought he knew everything about Bruce like he knew his own fingers, but suddenly found that the hand was wearing a glove.

Bruce had never smoked in front of him before, let alone women's cigarettes, nor had he drank so skillfully, and he never knew that there were so many private items in the drawer of the master bedroom.

Bruce asked suspiciously, "These?"

He followed Clark's gaze to focus on his fingers, froze for a few seconds, and asked in astonishment, "Do you want to talk about this cigarette?"

Clark nodded.

Bruce thought for a moment: "...if you need it, you can."

He carefully observed Clark's expression, and was even more dazed. When he was ready to explain those grand unsolvable problems, Clark was inexplicably paying attention to a cigarette.

Did he directly stimulate the Kryptonian out of order?

Bruce held the cigarette he hadn't smoked twice in his hand and didn't extinguish it. Batman has dealt with enough weird things, but when did he think that one day he would have to face Superman? Want to talk about a cigarette, talk about it? The fate of the planet is more reliable than this, and he has no idea what Clark wants to know.

"I'm smoking a lady's cigarette," he said dryly.

"I wonder why...a pack of cigarettes is here, and Selena's diamond ring, Bruce, you never let me know about it, no, I mean, I thought I knew the whole of you." Clark's voice gradually weakened: "And you know everything about me."

He wasn't complaining about any injustice, but he made the man who was like an iron wall shake for a moment.

"This pack of cigarettes was left by a model. I don't know her name. We only had two nights of friendship. She should be walking for Berman now. I can search for the specific itinerary later."

"As for the diamond ring." Bruce said a bit tangled: "A long time ago, I was with Selena. She stole a bag of jewelry from an exhibition one day, passed by Wayne Manor, and deliberately put this diamond ring Throw it on my pillow through the window."

"I didn't hear you mention it." Clark gave Bruce a quick look.

He straightened out his thoughts, realizing that on the one hand he just wanted to hear Bruce talk, especially about unimportant things, and on the other hand, he wanted to understand why Bruce kept hiding it from him.

"I didn't hide it." When he heard the other party say this, he realized that he had unconsciously expressed what was in his heart.

Bruce's expression showed some discomfort. It could be seen that he was trying to separate himself, but it still seemed too difficult. He stared at Clark: "I don't know."

It doesn't make sense, Bruce complained softly.

But from Clark's point of view, his actions do seem to be resistance and distrust, but these should also be counted on him. Is it strange that there is a difference between alliance affairs and personal affairs?

"It's weird." Clark blurted out.

He hesitated for a few seconds: "It's almost two people... Maybe not so much, but it's about the same."

No wonder Dick used to get into fights with Bruce, yelling at him that you should go to a mental hospital for treatment for split personality.

"When you stay with me, it should be regarded as a family model." Clark said honestly: "There are no bad habits, similar to a very rich ordinary person, and there is nothing out of the ordinary, except that he is much richer than me, and he is not too big in every way. What a difference."

That's why he feels that Gotham Sweetheart has no real ingredients.

There was a wave of frustration in his heart.

"Because of these—" Bruce adjusted his posture uncomfortably, and he waved the cigarette at Clark: "They don't fit you."

"You never fit into the really bad parts, even investigative journalism, Clarke, your powers set you apart from the average person, but in my opinion, apart from that ability, your life is defined by convention. "

"You haven't taken LSD on your own initiative, you haven't injected anything into your veins, drunk, hallucinated, deliberately suffocated yourself, and then lay gasping in vomit-this kind of life has nothing to do with you, but Sai Linna or Jason, they have long been accustomed to this, and they are not special."

Clark's eyes widened.

"I have been a homeless man, and I have also been a low-level lackey of a gang, as well as a news dealer...not a good skin and flesh, etc. All in all, they are not decent roles. You will wonder why I have to fabricate such identities."

Bruce sighed very lightly: "I can say that it is necessary to fight crime, but these identities are not necessary. It is still possible to be an upstart purchaser. In the final analysis, I just want to do this. Tossing myself can make me Feeling much better."

"So why should I show you these things?" Bruce lowered his eyes in disgust: "In addition to making me look more unstable, or causing your worries..."

"But they are a part of my life."