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thejusticelounge2013-06-26 08:03 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2013-06-26 08:03 am
Entry tags:
take two
[Email] HI Clark, can we talk? It’s about Guy. I know you apparently have your reasons, so I wanted to talk to you about that. Thanks very much. — GL Kyle
Re:
I do have my reasons, but I’d be happy to discuss them with you. You can meet me at Sunrise Beans for coffee during my lunch break tomorrow. It’s at the corner of 4th and Water Street, two blocks from the Daily Planet.
—Clark
Kyle almost snapped back a rather rude ‘I know where it is, I’m a Green Lantern’ but he refrained. Honestly, the last time he was feeling this frustrated with Superman it was when Clark took him to task about Ion (the first time…and the second), but maybe - maybe - Clark had been correct about that. Partially. He had a sort of valid point. This time Kyle really did feel indignant, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to cop too much attitude, not after the whole thing with Billy and what Parallax did.
Plus, he wanted to glean what exactly happened, after Guy’s performance and hear Clark’s side.
Instead, Kyle emailed a sedate acknowledgement and showed up a little early to Sunrise Beans, getting himself a coffee and a corner booth in the shop. He was there for a couple minutes, before he almost laughed out loud to himself.
Wow Rayner. You are a chump when you wanna be, Kyle thought, looking around. It wasn’t the Watchtower. They were meeting as Kyle and Clark. And Clark on a time schedule. AND they were in a very public, very casual, very civilian-populated place.
Un-freaking-believable. Clark Kent had played him.
Lemon poppy or blueberry? “Blueberry,” Clark finally decided, and the barista plated a crumbly muffin alongside the tall white mocha. Clark smiled at Kyle as he joined him at the booth near the back corner of the coffeehouse, the adjoining windows busy with the bustle of Metropolis outside.
“How are you?” Clark asked around a cautious sip of his coffee— it couldn’t burn him, but he’d acquired the habit to sip hot beverages through observation. Kyle was polite but terse as they exchanged the usual small talk in greeting, which came as no surprise to Clark, circumstances considered. So Clark spared them both any further awkward chatter and got to it. “I hope you understand that Guy quitting the League is not something I wanted to happen,” he began, voice soft and low.
Kyle found himself dealing in pleasantries with Clark and really he couldn’t help himself - it was Superman, for pete’s sake. No matter how aggravated and frustrated he was, he still couldn’t quite bring himself out of Respect Mode, so it was something of a relief when Clark brought up the matter at hand.
“I get that,” Kyle said shortly, opening his coffee cup and stirring the contents, before closing it again. “I just don’t understand why you allowed it to happen. That’s not like you, Clark. Not after everything we’ve all done and gone through together and…all things considered. Why?”
Kyle watched him as carefully as carefully as he’d watched Guy. He wasn’t a detective like a Batperson. He didn’t solve puzzles or look for clues. He knew he wasn’t exactly brilliant. But he was an artist and when he wanted to pay attention to people’s movements and body language, he did. He was trained to from an aesthetic point of view, the need to achieve the uncanny valley in art by imitating real life. He wanted to see as much as he wanted to hear.
“Guy is free to make his own decisions, and his decision was that the League is no longer something he wants to be a part of.” Clark looked away from Kyle, staring out the window at a group of teenagers on spring break instead. They half-skipped down the sidewalk in jeans and tank tops and strappy dresses, young, vibrant, carefree. Clark took a long drink of his coffee, forgetting that it was still technically too hot to swallow back in heavy gulps.
“I didn’t encourage him to leave, but you’re right: I didn’t stop him.” Clark turned back to Kyle, lips drawn in a firm line, though there’s something soft in his eyes, something almost apologetic. “Guy challenged me on the notion that the Lanterns have jurisdiction over the League, particularly regarding recent… incidents.” Clark faltered for a second, not wanting to call out Parallax by name. “I respect the Corps, but I expect Guy to respect that he’s a part of this team, too. It wasn’t a point on which we saw eye-to-eye, and it’s not one I’m willing to recant in order to convince him to stay.”
This wasn’t good enough. Clark’s reasons still weren’t making any sense to Kyle, even though he didn’t really get why. And he reminded himself that he trusted Guy to know what he was doing, whatever it was. This wasn’t about burning bridges. It couldn’t be. It had to be something else.
He saw Clark look off into the distance, drink his coffee in gulps, and mention…that. Parallax. Well of course he had to. It was sort of what Kyle was waiting for, but it didn’t stop the Lantern from turning a mottled shade of red. Of course, he couldn’t raise his voice or throw a fit. Public place, after all. Clever Kryptonian.
“Well they don’t call you the Man of Steel for nothing,” Kyle said caustically. ”Way to be unbendable, about our friend no less. I don’t agree with the League either, not about this, or about a dozen other things that Corps policy takes precedence over. But I’m not gonna up and quit because of it. Christ, man - we all argue, all the time! All the time,” Kyle reiterated.
And that was what was bothering him the most. He huffed out a sigh of frustration through his nose. “None of this is adding up, and I don’t get it. And I feel like I’m not supposed to get it but then I don’t know what to do, Clark. I don’t know what I need to do here. It’s never been this black and white before, not while I’ve been a part of the League. I don’t understand why it is now.”
Clark read the signs of Kyle’s frustration before color flushed his face: his elevated heart rate, the vein throbbing under his left wrist, the jiggle of his foot that Clark could see through the bistro-style table. Tension lingered between Kyle and himself, tension that had nothing to do with Guy. “I’m glad you’re not planning to quit,” he said, and he meant it. “I think it’s important for us to be visible as a unified team, especially now with Godfrey chomping at the bit to see us divided. I’m sorry it happened this way with Guy, but I couldn’t stand by silent while he spoke dismissively of the League. I can’t say I’m pleased about him giving an exclusive to Godfrey at the first opportunity, either.” Clark broke off a piece of his muffin and nearly swallowed it whole, taking no time to savor it.
He studied Kyle across the table, the hint of vulnerability in his eyes when he admitted his indecision over what course of action to take now. Kyle was so young, Clark realized at once— he forgot sometimes that Kyle wasn’t much older than the Bat and Arrow children he’d watched grow from precocious tykes to heroes in their own right. It was easy to remember now though, with Kyle in his civilian clothes and free of his Lantern mask, nothing to obscure his boyish face. But there were marks of having faced troubles beyond his years, as well, fine lines of stress at the corners of his eyes and something weary in his gaze. Clark almost asked if Kyle was getting enough sleep lately, but he stopped himself before he derailed their conversation. Besides, he didn’t imagine Kyle would appreciate any personal inquiries about his well-being, not from Clark, not now.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Kyle,” Clark finally said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. “I didn’t tell Guy what to do, either. He made the decision to leave, and I regret that he did, but I’m not going to beg him to come back as long as he considers the League a nuisance that holds him back. I hope he changes his mind one day, but as things were left, it wouldn’t benefit Guy or the League to insist that he return.”
Kyle’s eyes widened over the coffee cup and he hastily drank his gulp of coffee, hitting his chest as it went down with an air bubble. “Godfrey what…?” He asked in confusion, and in response, Clark quietly pointed over to one of the coffeeshop televisions, where the interview was being replayed on MSNBC. Kyle keyed his ring in to hear the interview play out in full, his face dropping almost comically if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation itself. Clark waited patiently, watching the Lantern carefully, until it was over and Kyle turned back to look at the other man.
“I—” Kyle stopped himself, utterly flummoxed for a brief moment before he squared his shoulders and finished his coffee. He dodged eye contact with Clark, looking at the table instead. “Of - of course. I knew he was going to do that, and he did a great job of it.”
Who was he kidding. He was talking to Superman, and Kyle couldn’t lie properly to a regular person, nevermind him. Still, he stubbornly kept up the facade; it seemed to be de rigeur for Lanterns these days, he thought bitterly.
“I have to go see a man about a horse,” he blurts out stupidly, standing up. They needed a Lanternmoot, stat. Clark looked a little surprised, standing up as well, politeness bred into the Smallvile man. “Thanks for talking to me Clark, I appreciate it. Thanks. Okay. Thanks. Bye.” Kyle jitters for a bit and takes off, flying back to the Watchtower as soon as he was out of sight.
Re:
I do have my reasons, but I’d be happy to discuss them with you. You can meet me at Sunrise Beans for coffee during my lunch break tomorrow. It’s at the corner of 4th and Water Street, two blocks from the Daily Planet.
—Clark
Kyle almost snapped back a rather rude ‘I know where it is, I’m a Green Lantern’ but he refrained. Honestly, the last time he was feeling this frustrated with Superman it was when Clark took him to task about Ion (the first time…and the second), but maybe - maybe - Clark had been correct about that. Partially. He had a sort of valid point. This time Kyle really did feel indignant, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to cop too much attitude, not after the whole thing with Billy and what Parallax did.
Plus, he wanted to glean what exactly happened, after Guy’s performance and hear Clark’s side.
Instead, Kyle emailed a sedate acknowledgement and showed up a little early to Sunrise Beans, getting himself a coffee and a corner booth in the shop. He was there for a couple minutes, before he almost laughed out loud to himself.
Wow Rayner. You are a chump when you wanna be, Kyle thought, looking around. It wasn’t the Watchtower. They were meeting as Kyle and Clark. And Clark on a time schedule. AND they were in a very public, very casual, very civilian-populated place.
Un-freaking-believable. Clark Kent had played him.
Lemon poppy or blueberry? “Blueberry,” Clark finally decided, and the barista plated a crumbly muffin alongside the tall white mocha. Clark smiled at Kyle as he joined him at the booth near the back corner of the coffeehouse, the adjoining windows busy with the bustle of Metropolis outside.
“How are you?” Clark asked around a cautious sip of his coffee— it couldn’t burn him, but he’d acquired the habit to sip hot beverages through observation. Kyle was polite but terse as they exchanged the usual small talk in greeting, which came as no surprise to Clark, circumstances considered. So Clark spared them both any further awkward chatter and got to it. “I hope you understand that Guy quitting the League is not something I wanted to happen,” he began, voice soft and low.
Kyle found himself dealing in pleasantries with Clark and really he couldn’t help himself - it was Superman, for pete’s sake. No matter how aggravated and frustrated he was, he still couldn’t quite bring himself out of Respect Mode, so it was something of a relief when Clark brought up the matter at hand.
“I get that,” Kyle said shortly, opening his coffee cup and stirring the contents, before closing it again. “I just don’t understand why you allowed it to happen. That’s not like you, Clark. Not after everything we’ve all done and gone through together and…all things considered. Why?”
Kyle watched him as carefully as carefully as he’d watched Guy. He wasn’t a detective like a Batperson. He didn’t solve puzzles or look for clues. He knew he wasn’t exactly brilliant. But he was an artist and when he wanted to pay attention to people’s movements and body language, he did. He was trained to from an aesthetic point of view, the need to achieve the uncanny valley in art by imitating real life. He wanted to see as much as he wanted to hear.
“Guy is free to make his own decisions, and his decision was that the League is no longer something he wants to be a part of.” Clark looked away from Kyle, staring out the window at a group of teenagers on spring break instead. They half-skipped down the sidewalk in jeans and tank tops and strappy dresses, young, vibrant, carefree. Clark took a long drink of his coffee, forgetting that it was still technically too hot to swallow back in heavy gulps.
“I didn’t encourage him to leave, but you’re right: I didn’t stop him.” Clark turned back to Kyle, lips drawn in a firm line, though there’s something soft in his eyes, something almost apologetic. “Guy challenged me on the notion that the Lanterns have jurisdiction over the League, particularly regarding recent… incidents.” Clark faltered for a second, not wanting to call out Parallax by name. “I respect the Corps, but I expect Guy to respect that he’s a part of this team, too. It wasn’t a point on which we saw eye-to-eye, and it’s not one I’m willing to recant in order to convince him to stay.”
This wasn’t good enough. Clark’s reasons still weren’t making any sense to Kyle, even though he didn’t really get why. And he reminded himself that he trusted Guy to know what he was doing, whatever it was. This wasn’t about burning bridges. It couldn’t be. It had to be something else.
He saw Clark look off into the distance, drink his coffee in gulps, and mention…that. Parallax. Well of course he had to. It was sort of what Kyle was waiting for, but it didn’t stop the Lantern from turning a mottled shade of red. Of course, he couldn’t raise his voice or throw a fit. Public place, after all. Clever Kryptonian.
“Well they don’t call you the Man of Steel for nothing,” Kyle said caustically. ”Way to be unbendable, about our friend no less. I don’t agree with the League either, not about this, or about a dozen other things that Corps policy takes precedence over. But I’m not gonna up and quit because of it. Christ, man - we all argue, all the time! All the time,” Kyle reiterated.
And that was what was bothering him the most. He huffed out a sigh of frustration through his nose. “None of this is adding up, and I don’t get it. And I feel like I’m not supposed to get it but then I don’t know what to do, Clark. I don’t know what I need to do here. It’s never been this black and white before, not while I’ve been a part of the League. I don’t understand why it is now.”
Clark read the signs of Kyle’s frustration before color flushed his face: his elevated heart rate, the vein throbbing under his left wrist, the jiggle of his foot that Clark could see through the bistro-style table. Tension lingered between Kyle and himself, tension that had nothing to do with Guy. “I’m glad you’re not planning to quit,” he said, and he meant it. “I think it’s important for us to be visible as a unified team, especially now with Godfrey chomping at the bit to see us divided. I’m sorry it happened this way with Guy, but I couldn’t stand by silent while he spoke dismissively of the League. I can’t say I’m pleased about him giving an exclusive to Godfrey at the first opportunity, either.” Clark broke off a piece of his muffin and nearly swallowed it whole, taking no time to savor it.
He studied Kyle across the table, the hint of vulnerability in his eyes when he admitted his indecision over what course of action to take now. Kyle was so young, Clark realized at once— he forgot sometimes that Kyle wasn’t much older than the Bat and Arrow children he’d watched grow from precocious tykes to heroes in their own right. It was easy to remember now though, with Kyle in his civilian clothes and free of his Lantern mask, nothing to obscure his boyish face. But there were marks of having faced troubles beyond his years, as well, fine lines of stress at the corners of his eyes and something weary in his gaze. Clark almost asked if Kyle was getting enough sleep lately, but he stopped himself before he derailed their conversation. Besides, he didn’t imagine Kyle would appreciate any personal inquiries about his well-being, not from Clark, not now.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Kyle,” Clark finally said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. “I didn’t tell Guy what to do, either. He made the decision to leave, and I regret that he did, but I’m not going to beg him to come back as long as he considers the League a nuisance that holds him back. I hope he changes his mind one day, but as things were left, it wouldn’t benefit Guy or the League to insist that he return.”
Kyle’s eyes widened over the coffee cup and he hastily drank his gulp of coffee, hitting his chest as it went down with an air bubble. “Godfrey what…?” He asked in confusion, and in response, Clark quietly pointed over to one of the coffeeshop televisions, where the interview was being replayed on MSNBC. Kyle keyed his ring in to hear the interview play out in full, his face dropping almost comically if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation itself. Clark waited patiently, watching the Lantern carefully, until it was over and Kyle turned back to look at the other man.
“I—” Kyle stopped himself, utterly flummoxed for a brief moment before he squared his shoulders and finished his coffee. He dodged eye contact with Clark, looking at the table instead. “Of - of course. I knew he was going to do that, and he did a great job of it.”
Who was he kidding. He was talking to Superman, and Kyle couldn’t lie properly to a regular person, nevermind him. Still, he stubbornly kept up the facade; it seemed to be de rigeur for Lanterns these days, he thought bitterly.
“I have to go see a man about a horse,” he blurts out stupidly, standing up. They needed a Lanternmoot, stat. Clark looked a little surprised, standing up as well, politeness bred into the Smallvile man. “Thanks for talking to me Clark, I appreciate it. Thanks. Okay. Thanks. Bye.” Kyle jitters for a bit and takes off, flying back to the Watchtower as soon as he was out of sight.