Superman Batman (Private)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter, was going to kill Lois Lane. Figuratively, of course. Lois was one of his best friends and a brilliant mentor and writer. She also currently happened to be the reason Clark was on a cramped and uncomfortable train bound for America's most crime riddled city. How many years had he been working at the Daily planet now, and still she claimed first pick of assignments. Most of the time her 'rookie' endearment was charming. When she was essentially shipping him off to baby sit a billionaire for a few hours it was thoroughly annoying.

Mentally Clark berated himself for his thoughts. Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy philanthropist, was his new 'boss'. What possessed the, by all appearances, vapid and fickle man to buy out more than half of Metropolis's big brands, Clark couldn't fathom, especially when one of those ventures was a newspaper for a city Wayne didn't live in. That was what he was here to find out, he supposed.

The train pulled into the station and Clark tried not to hurt anyone as he bustled his way out of the carriage. Commune between Gotham and Metropolis only took roughly an hour and a half, but Clark was still scheduled to stay overnight. His story wasn't due until tomorrow, to be printed the day after that. This was a tell all expose, after all, and they wanted their facts straight.

It wasn't the first time Superman had been to Gotham, but it was Clark's first official visit. The smell hit him as he left the train station, glancing at the directions Jimmy had hastily scribbled down on a napkin. It was a unique mixture of sweat, garbage and blood that might have made him gag if his stomach hadn't been almost literally made of steel. It was dimmer here, too, between the haze of pollution and the towering buildings. Clark could almost feel his energy draining away as he realised he'd have to spend a whole day in this hell hole without the sun.

The hotel the paper was paying for was dingy and added semen to Gotham's already pungent smell. Thankfully the bedding seemed clean (thank you alternate scopes of vision) and he'd brought his own pillow. Setting his overnight bag down on the cleanest spot he could find, Clark sat precariously on the bed and grimaced.

He couldn't ignore the voices anymore.

A woman screamed as she was mugged. A bone snapped as a young girl fell from something high. A man gasped as he was stabbed from behind. There was an almost constant stream of misery, much more so than Metropolis. He struggled to rein it in, bring his hearing back to his immediate surroundings.

He hated it here...

Clark knew he couldn't save everyone. Trying to had almost killed him, near the start of his Superman career. He still felt every single cry he couldn't stop, every scream, every injury, as if it was his fault. His mother had set rules on his engagement after those first few months, times he could help with individual incidents and limits on how long he could keep going. They kept him sane and able to, not ignore, but accept the death and injury he couldn't get to.

Right now he didn't have time for a quick cape break. There was only an hour before his meeting with Wayne and he had to go over his preparations, have something to eat, and find the Wayne building. Work currently took precedence over super-heroing. After all, even Superman had to earn a living. How embarrassing would it be to have to go back home to Kansas?

The reporter wasn't sure if people weren't used to seeing someone smile at them here, or if he was just being particularly charming, but Clark managed to gain directions from a few surprised pedestrians when his initial map got him hopelessly lost. Adding Jimmy to his figurative hit list, he paused at the bottom of the building to straighten his tie before going inside.

The receptionist was brisk, but snuck him one of the lollies in a bowl on her desk (clearly meant for children) as she smiled at him and his bumbling persona. Clark beamed back and moved to sit in the rather luxurious waiting room. There was a fountain in the corner bubbling happily and the smell of cleaning products almost blocked out the smell of outside.

Most importantly his chair was comfortable, which he took full advantage of as he settling in to wait.

[Ruche Evermehr]

It had been a very long, and yet relatively benign night.

In no way did that mean his patrol was uneventful of course. Batman had stopped two robberies, one bank and one high end jewelry store, a handful of muggings, one random case of domestic abuse that had almost been comical seeing as how the perpetrator was a woman with a broom wailing on her drunkard husband that shrieked and shrunk back in fear at the mere shadow of the wraith-like avenger, found a new tip on some simmering, half baked plot to break Killer Croc out of his happy home at the asylum and still managed to land himself smack dab in the middle of a gang turf war just shy of Crime alley. That had been the highlight of the night really. Dodging bullets at insane speeds, deflecting the ones he could, and absorbing the ones he couldn't while neutralizing one raving lunatic after the other. Blessedly the newest tweaks to his armor had kept the barrage from doing much damage; a smattering of blooming bruises along his back and down the length of his right thigh and little else. The conflict had been resolved without unnecessary loss of life thankfully, but no less bloodshed, and neither side would be in any hurry to repeat the performance any time soon.

What made the evening seem so sedate, despite the constant leaping from one task to the next, was the obvious absence of any of the city's so called higher class of criminals.

The streets had been relatively quite lately. No Joker, no Ivy, no Mad hatter, or Freeze. The utter lack of their presence honestly was rather telling in and of itself. The city had been quiet for almost a month now, and that last attack by Riddler aimed at several of Gotham's seedier industrial plants of all things had been down right pathetic. Sure the wealth of them were in Arkham, as always. But the darker, craftier of his enemies never seemed to remain there long and the silence, the utter absence of their malicious intent was like the prickle of electricity, charging the air before a coming storm. Surely they, or at the very least, one of them was up to something.

Perhaps he had simply grown paranoid over the last few years, well, more paranoid than before at any rate, so much so that he couldn't accept the peace and quiet for what it was. Perhaps the Batman had become so accustomed to their malevolent presence in his city that the lack there of felt like an open wound, slowly festering, needing to be addressed. No that wasn't quite right, maybe it was more like an itch, a very annoying itch that tickled at the back of the brain like an insistent tick; determined to irritate him.

Really, why couldn't Batman simply enjoy the relative calm for once?

Oh, because he knew them far too well. That's why. A scheme was being made, it was that simple, and it would be unleashed, he was sure of it. The knowledge that he'd be there, regardless, to stop it, didn't instill the reassurances it should have though. Instead, Bruce focused on following that lead he'd scented out in the early hours of dusk; the one leading to Croc and, far more shockingly, hinted at a possible entanglement with intergang.

"I take it there are no insistent repercussions demanding my immediate attention tonight sir?" That familiar cultured voice wafted down the massive stone cavern a fraction of a second before the man himself appeared, somehow seeming not at all out of place amongst the roughly hewn walls and the veritable miniature city of steel. The lights stationed sporadically about the cave cast strange shadows across the space, obscuring the steps that sprawled almost lazily beneath polished shoes but the old man did not miss a single one. This was a long memorized ritual after all; he was intimately aware of every inch of this dank little fortress and its spectral master.

"Not tonight Alfred. I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little longer to break in those new synthetic stitches of yours." Bruce replied calmly, cowled face as impassive as ever bathed in the empyreal gleam cast from the vast bank of computer monitors. But the hint of fond humor was present and felt all the same. They had known each other for far too long not to know just how to read between the lines. The bats above twittered a moment, roused into a little flutter before settling once more and the click of smart heels on stone segued into the clack of wingtips on sprawling metal.

"Pity. And I was so looking forward to it." The prim British man replied dryly, elegantly gliding towards his young charges side, hands aged and yet vastly stronger than they should be lowering the customary tray atop an empty corner of the computer console. The silver was dotted with the norm; laden with fruit, toast, a rolled egg white omelet and the requisite protein beverage packed with more vitamins and mineral's than should be legal. In fact, knowing Alfred, it probably wasn't. But a quick hand grasped the chilled glass nonetheless, sipping even as the other continued to dash almost feverishly across the keys. "An important case, Master Wayne?" Alfred inquired, motioning to the numerous and dizzying sprawls of seemingly incongruous code and brackets of information hanging heavy on nearly every monitor.

"Just tying up loose ends. Can't afford to be late today now can I?" The very corner of the Bat's lips twitched then, the motion so miniscule as almost to be invisible; a rarity when still safely swathed beneath cape and cowl. Setting the partially empty glass aside, quick digits finished implementing the last string of code necessary to initiate his latest scanning protocols before sweeping from the computer. The whisper of velvet and memory cloth caressing against Kevlar and steel remained the only testament to his passing. That and knowing, watchful eyes that followed as the vigilante disappeared into what passed for the cave's changing facilities.

"Certainly not sir."

Bruce wasted no time showering, shaving and dressing in a pristine, perfectly pressed blue pinstripe suit, complete with matching vest, crisp white shirt and a deep plum tie.

The day promised to be rather interesting for the billionaire who spent his night habitually terrorizing the wits out of Gotham's underbelly. And the reason was simple. One, Clark Kent. The corn-fed hayseed from Kansas Bruce's newest acquisition had decided to unleash upon him in the name of freedom of speech and the demand for the big scoop first and foremost. The unassuming reporter who, of course, also happened to be the most powerful creature on the planet. And yet for all those powers and abilities, the man hadn't a clue what his employers had decided to subject him too. It was likely Superman wasn't going to find their meeting anywhere near as entertaining and insightful as Bruce intended to. But really that couldn't be helped, and there was absolutely no way he was going to delight in that fact. No sir.

Of course, luring Kent to his beautiful, dark city hadn't at all been Bruce's intention when he'd decided to purchase the Planet. It had been a tactical move, one seeded in both curiosity and compulsion, but logic driven nonetheless. That Perry White had seen fit to shuttle Bruce's current point of interest right into his lap like a neatly wrapped present was, really, just a happy accident. And he wasn't about to complain about it. Not one bit.

The drive from the manor to the city was rather banal and over pleasantly soon. Mrs. Hallister sat diligently at her desk as always, greeting Bruce with friendly smiles and warm coffee; black, strong and thick. Just the way he liked it. Kent wasn't due to arrive for a good while yet, so Wayne passed the time busying himself with the deeper affairs of his company. Of course, he was careful to keep his fingerprints well clear of the inner workings. No one would ever know it had been Bruce himself that nudged that last million into the Wayne Foundation for the children's hospital in Metropolis and away from the arms proposal one of the more selfish members of the board was pushing effectively killing that half-brained idea dead in ten seconds flat. Not that he was the one carefully guiding the stumped Tech team diligently working on the Wayne techs newest artificially intelligent security protocols away from the confounding equation they continually circled and circled with no answers and back towards the proper math needed to repair the glitch they were having with misfiring servos. To the world Brucie Wayne was an airheaded buffoon with more money than wits, and far more likely to swallow a servo than tell you how it was spelled. And he planned to keep it that way.

By the time the proper hour rolled around, and then passed a good twenty minutes or so to make sure he looked just the right amount of bored, inconsiderate jerk, Bruce's eyes were quite thankful for a break from the strain of that computer screen. He packed away the laptop, his personal laptop; tucking it away nonchalantly before standing. Straightening an already immaculate appearance, slipping seamless into 'Brucie' almost without thought, Wayne padded towards the great doors of his office and swept them open with unnecessary flourish. It wasn't at all hard to spy Kent. The man, when you know what to look for anyway, was hard to miss. Like those startling, unearthly blue eyes.

Ever the epitome of vapid, empty-headedness that had his secretary shaking her own head almost fondly, Bruce strut his way towards the reporter and offered a pale hand.

"Ah, Mr. Lent right? From the Daily Prophet? Cynthia told me you were coming today." The billionaire flashed that famous, Bruice smile, charming but perfectly clueless to the rather abhorrent slip of the tongue; or two. The hand grasping Clarks, forward and not at all shy was limp as a wet noodle, meticulously manicured and moisturized. "Wait. It is Tuesday right? I didn't miss another day did I?" He asked innocently, leaning into the reporter as if sharing some carefully guarded secret, the brilliance of his perfectly plastic grin dulled momentarily by the dark sense of scandal and debauchery in his eyes. The look alone was more than enough to convey just why the businessman was having supposed trouble remembering the day. That bright, guileless smile returned not a heartbeat later and he pulled back with a small, almost imperceptible, but not quite, sweep of the thumb across the back of Clark's hand. That smile brightened a little more and he ushered the man into the glass sanctum of billionaire bozo territory.

"Come. Sit. We have much to discuss, or so I'm told." Bruce motioned to one of the large, expensive leather chairs looming before the massive desk. Even with the sharp lines, all crystal and steel and supple white leather, stretching in the sweeps and arch's of pleasant modern aesthetics, there could be no other word for the furniture on account of its sheer size. "Would you care for a drink? They stopped allowing me alcohol in here after the incident with the triplets and that board meeting with Luthor Corp. Or was it the redhead and fountain skinny dipping?" The man paused, as if truly contemplating the importance of such a memory before simply shrugging and snatched up a suspiciously sparkling beverage. "Well no matter. I've found ways to get around that little rule now and again. An unnecessary annoyance really. Lex certainly wasn't complaining in the end. Neither was the red head come to think of it." Not awaiting an answer, Wayne diligently, with a skill born of many years at expensive, over inflated parties, doled out two glasses and offered one to the bespectacled man baring protests. Moving around to his own seat, Bruce reclaimed the succulent leather throne with accustomed laziness, swirling the cantaloupe colored glass almost absently. He studied Clark a moment, sweeping the features he'd long since memorized from media coverage and private snooping; those oft clever blue bat-eyes dulled by something that appeared almost lascivious in nature.

"So, where would you like to begin Mr. Bent- Mark, can I call you Mark?" Bruice ask innocently, swinging his chair around to recline almost parallel to the large desk, peering at the alien in disguise from one dull, dimwitted eye. "I bet its the sexcapades in Europe. Everyone always asks about that. Honestly its getting a little old. I've got so much more to offer than that one month in paradise you know." Leaning across the hard glass surface, scrumptiously spilling the beverage across the fingers of one hand without any sort of care at all, he grinned conspiratorially. "Like the two months in the Caribbean. Now that, is a story worth telling."

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Clark stood as Wayne, well and truly late but not by as much as he'd begun to fear, drifted in to greet him. Their handshake was a joke, with Clark carefully keeping his grip loose to match his current guise and Wayne simply disinterested. He didn't know if he preferred the usual test of strength he got, but at least he didn't have to fake a wince. One pump up and down, then Clark quickly took his back, hoping terribly that the billionaire had washed his hands after whatever he'd been doing.

Wayne seemed to ignore any attempt to correct him on his name. In fact he seemed to ignore most everything he said, going off on his own tangent so the reporter barely got a word in edgewise anyway. By the time they reached Wayne's office Clark was screaming internally. There were people he could be saving and he was stuck in an, albeit beautifully furnished, room with this self centred, sex obsessed ninny.

Pulling the drink closer to him, but not drinking it, Clark groaned internally and gave up the part of him that wanted to keep correcting Wayne on his name, or refuse his offerings. Instead he tried to make the best of the situation, noting his chair was once again comfortable and he could only just smell outside. The alcoholic beverage was a sharp tang in his nose and he wished that he could get drunk. Heck maybe that would make this more tolerable. Stupid alien DNA...

Plastering on his most polite smile, Clark tapped his notepad with the end of his pen. "Maybe we should stick to something more... relevant to the situation? It's our understanding that it was you personally who pushed the acquisitions in Metropolis. Why?" Dear god why?

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

"Acquisition?" Bruce asked somewhat blankly, blinking at the reporter for a solid, empty minute. "Acquisition? Oh, you mean the paper and such right?" He repeated, seeming to nod to himself and settled back into the warm folds of expensive leather. Bright blue eyes that always seemed to change so perfectly into whatever he needed them to be turned, catching the motion of liquid dripping off pale digits and he set the half empty glass aside. Extracting a kerchief Wayne absentmindedly swiped the spilled beverage from his hand and returned his immediate attention to his guest.

"So you're not interested in Europe then? Or the Caribbean I take it. Pity." Bruce hummed, gaze sweeping the strong frame tucked beneath bland ill fitting clothes in a far more suggestive way than most would dare. "Are you sure? I bet you'd enjoy it.. You know there was this one morsel in France, had eyes like you. Striking but not quite that lovely, unearthly blue, but oh the things he did with that tongue. One might even call it super." The billionaire almost moaned, affecting a delighted little shiver. Of course, he gave only the carefully perfected appearance of a daft letch, allowing his mind to wander in memories that didn't actually exist. But every word was carefully chosen, each insinuation perfectly choreographed and icy blue eyes watched on from behind long lashes and that air of idiocy to take in each and every possible reaction.

"Ah, well. Business is business I suppose. So," Bruce swivel, deftly plopping one foot upon the corner of the desk and crossed the other atop it without much grace or care. "You want to know why then? Why stretch out beyond our borders into the city of tomorrow. Well that's easy really, we're not. Wayne Industries is a world wide company, or so I'm told. Even I'm aware of our Metropolis branch." He said it as if it were perfectly normal that the owner of such a large conglomerate were a total idiot who needn't bother himself with the ins and outs of said company. "The board felt it time to expand, and I saw no reason to deny them. And when I heard a certain bald rival was intending to pluck up a few key industries in an attempt to get a leg up in the technology field, it seemed prudent we make our move first." He looked almost conspiratorial. Bruce idly straightened his jacket, tugging the lapels lightly before folding his hands across his lap.

"Now, the newspaper, the Daily Prophet, that was my idea. I caught wind of talk about change and I couldn't let that happen. Such a prominent outlet of information on a worldly scale has to be protected. I mean I don't read it of course. All that nonsense about a guy in tights saving kittens in trees isn't exactly my shtick. But I know a lot of people love it. No point in disappointing them, right?" The man flashed a bright smile then, one a little less dimwitted than the others as if quietly conveying that, while the billionaire was vapid and dull he wasn't completely uncaring. "Do you think that was wrong of me?" Bruce asked suddenly, dropping his feet to lean across folded arms seeking out his companions gaze.

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Well that was something, at least. After the uncomfortable innuendos and what sounded like an invitation, Clark thought he wasn't going to get anything useful. Quickly he jotted down a note about ousting Luthor and keeping the paper alive. He didn't actually need notes, but it made him feel more... human, he supposed.

Clark was pretty sure he'd blushed a little as Wayne talked so openly about his sex life. Kansas wasn't exactly forward thinking and he'd been pretty isolated as a boy. Sex wasn't something that was talked about in polite company, or at all really. He'd been taught abstinence only at school and it had taken many embarrassing nights with his college friends on the internet to really hash out the process.

Of course he hadn't put it into practice yet. Not fully. There had been a few fumbled attempts with old girlfriends, but something had always gotten in the way. Mostly it had to do with his powers getting away from him in the heat of the moment... then with his career taking off he'd hardly had time to pursue his love life on top of that and his extracurricular vigilantism.

Probably for the best really. If Clark hurt someone he cared enough about to sleep with, he'd never forgive himself.

Clearing his throat, Clark pushed his glasses back up and blinked a few time as if bewildered he'd been asked a question. Really it was just to give himself a chance to think of something polite to say. "I think it's a noble view of the world." That much was true. "Do you often make decisions based on the public good?"

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

The man of steel can blush? Interesting. Score one for Brucie.

Bright eyes noted the faint hint of warmth in the reporters cheeks almost immediately and that smile curled just a fraction wider. That was one little tidbit he certainly hadn't been aware of and as fetching as the rose tinge was on those sun-kissed cheeks he purposefully steered his mind away from it and filed that tidbit away for later.

With a minute shrug, Wayne settled back into his chair.

"What's good for the public is often good for business." Bruce replied to Clark's question, lines that felt entirely memorized and rehearsed like words heaped upon the owner of a multimillion dollar company by a very desperate PR department determined he not make an utter fool of himself. Again. But they were no less true. And the glimmer of life in his eyes proved that quite clearly.

He regarded his guest for a moment, knowing in the same way that he knew just who it was sitting in his office likely irritated out of his mind, that Clark wouldn't exactly be satisfied with that answer. Whether that was due to an investigative reporters instincts or his need to see good in all people he couldn't say however. The hard part was finding the right words to satiate that need without giving away any of the intelligence or true compassion hidden carefully behind that boring, brainless facade. With most people it could be done easily of course. With Superman, well, he might just have to be a little more careful.

"You know, my father used to say we people in a position of privilege and power were given a gift but also a great responsibility. He believed we were charged with protecting those less fortunate than ourselves, that it was our job to ensure that all facets of life continued and flourished. He liked to say we were the servants of the city. As a kid, I didn't really understand that of course. Sometimes I suppose I still don't." The young man grinned a little self-depreciatingly, idly fingering the small metal figurine stationed like a sentry upon the corner of his desk.

"But I think part of me got a little of the memo... Our city, our world, it would not exist without the people, right? Sometimes those of us with the means have to do what we can to.. help others. Without the people, the employees, partners, consumers, there would be no business. Thinking on a global scale, keeping the average citizen in mind helps ensure the business continues, but more importantly, and don't tell the share holders I said this, likely they'ed think I'd gone daft or well, more so than usual, but it helps ensure life continues. I mean, if we take the people for granted, how can a civilization survive?" Bruce mused, attention appearing to focus inward for a moment before the billionaire blinked and flashed a rakish smile. "I'm not making much sense am I? I'm afraid I don't have my fathers way with words." Shaking his head, he studied the reporter, glancing down at the little note pad a moment.

"Listen to me ramble.. You must have questions. That's why you're here isn't it? So Mister Metropolis, fire away."

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Now that was interesting. Maybe Wayne had more of a head on his shoulder than he let on. Not much more, but still it was something. Clark had done his research before coming here. Bruce had lost his parents violently as a boy. That he took his father's words to heart so strongly, well it made Clark reassess his opinion of the man, just a little.

It was rare for a person, let alone a company to have this sort of mindset. Most times they spouted bullshit about caring about people while cutting wages and lining executive pockets. Wayne Corp, on the other hand, had steady wages well above the minimum, even for their lowliest employees to back up what Wayne was saying. They were also the largest employer in all of Gotham and was looking to be a boon on Metropolis too, especially with what Clark was hearing.

At the open invitation, Clark looked down at his list of questions, then discarded them for the moment. "Do you think your father, both your parents, would approve of how you're helping to run things here?"

Initially he'd decided against bringing up Wayne's deceased mother and father, thinking maybe it was still raw, maybe Wayne drank and had sex to forget. Of course that didn't seem to be the case and the man had brought his father up on his own. Hopefully it got him somewhere that wasn't thrown out on his a**.

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

Bruce blinked, affecting the appearance of one mildly surprised. But in truth of course he wasn't, not entirely at any rate. Some reporters, far more than he liked in fact, often sought to drag his parents into every aspect of his life. Particularly the less than noble aspects. Wielding their names as if the memory alone could shame the young man into amending his careless, hedonistic ways. And he had of course opened the door to mister Kent himself. What was surprising, however, was the curious phrasing. Others, they liked to insinuate that Bruce was a disgrace in as few words as possible, slinging their questions like innocuous insults until he gave them something juicer to focus on. Clark almost seemed genuinely interested, as if searching for a human heart under all of naughty Brucie's grease. Then again, that could just as likely be clever acting.

"That's a little off topic don't you think?" Wayne mumbled idly, though without any true heat. He examined the reporter, spearing him with clear, calculating eyes for a long moment. There was a flicker of something in those blue depths, neither truly pain nor discomfort but certainly something not quite congruent with the air-headed ninny. Adopting that bland, no-cares smile once more, the young billionaire shrugged breezily.

"Honestly though, why wouldn't they be? My father may have been a doctor first and foremost but he was also a very clever businessman. I'm sure he would appreciate the direction we've taken Wayne Enterprise in. The stocks are at a record high, the employees are content and hard working and the Wayne foundation has been an active and prevalent part of the charity community for years. My mother was rather fond of helping others and I intend to ensure the Wayne foundation never runs out of recipients for her generosity. You know recently we even spearheaded the rebuilding of several wings of Met U." Bruce replied, that previous edge of rehearsed sound bites creeping back into his tone just a little. The answer was careful however, directing attention towards the company and it's benefits rather than his role in it. "She liked to say that, although she loved this city, a helping hand should not be limited to things like borders." He shrugged again, a curious expression on his face as if he didn't quite understand that particular mentality. Blinking he glanced back at the reporter and beamed with an airy, nonchalance that belied the hint of self-depreciation. As if he were clearly too unintelligent to quite grasp at his own lacking, or perhaps, that he simple just didn't care.

"I don't have my fathers brilliance or my mothers endless compassion. What I do have is Wayne Enterprises, and I've made certain the board is full of men and woman who are far more clever than myself and can see that their will be done." Straightening, Bruce snatched up his half empty glass making a show of sipping at the chilled liquor even though it never passed his lips. Pulling the flute away, mouth bright and glossed by the beverage a playful sparkle lightened those chiseled features. "Allows me more time to partake of more.. enjoyable pastimes at any rate." Wayne grinned, effectively attempting to squash any discovered sense of humanity with that all to famous vapid flippancy and ever present pleasure inclined self interest. Setting the glass aside, fingers interlocked and a sharp chin lowered atop them; inviting and perhaps a bit predatory.

"Next question?"

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Scribbling notes Clark realised Wayne wasn't quite as boring as he'd initially assumed. He knew that paying people to think for him was a good idea and that keeping an eye on happenings kept his ideals in place. And they were Wayne's ideals. His parents may have started them, but there was a conviction to his words that wasn't there in someone merely following directions.

A brief thought occurred to Clark; perhaps Wayne pretended to be dim witted to throw people off. Clark himself pretended to be somewhat of a push over so people underestimated or overlooked him. His idea was discarded rather quickly, but still it left something in the back of his mind. This was still a terrible assignment, but at least the article wouldn't end up complete drivel.

Throwing caution to the wind, the reported picked up his drink and took a sip. It was rather fruity for sparkling wine, with a classic tang. Certainly high quality stuff. Clark had been to enough charity galas to have grown to appreciate alcohol, even if he couldn't enjoy the buzz humans got from the stuff. Besides what was the worst Wayne could do? Drug his drink?

"Are there any plans for further expansion? Luthor hasn't limited himself to Metropolis. Would you consider further expanding Wayne Enterprises abroad?"

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

He cocked his head a moment, contemplating the question and how best to go about answering it. Bright eyes followed the man's movement however, pleased to see Clark at last sampling his own drink and that smile widened just a hair.

"Yes. To my knowledge Wayne Enterprise has expanded beyond the national level and will continue to expand even further. I believe we have subsidiaries in almost every major country. But I'm afraid I can't give you the exact why's and the how's. That's quite beyond my simple understanding of the company. I'm the face and financial backing," he shrugged casually, plucking up the stem of his champagne flute, twirling it mildly.

"My mind is one for leisures and pleasures. You need someone to teach you the ins and outs of the human body and how to make someone moan," Bruce paused just long enough to give the reporter a lecherous and somewhat inviting look, asking with his eyes if Clark might at all be interested in that. "And I'm your guy. But the technicalities of running a multinational corporation," he shook his head with a blissfully ignorant little smile. "That is beyond my talents." He pretended to sip his drink again.

"Now Lex, he's got a good mind for business. Man's brilliant, great kisser too." Bruce beamed not at all put off by such blatantly taboo topics nor did he bother to clarify just how he knew such things. Instead, the playboy appeared to embrace it. His persona had been carefully orchestrated over the years, molded with insinuation and hints but very little concrete evidence. He'd been photographed over the years with scores of woman and men who could pass for business partners. And while there was often speculation about his sexuality and his preferences or lack there of, there was never anything blatant to state that the man was more than a womanizer. He tended to reserve those particular hints for special occasions. "I've often wondered how he does it all and stays sane. Seems almost impossible to be honest. Have to admire the guy for that. I think I'd crack in a weeks time if I ever tried to be smart like that or do all the things he does." Wayne laughed, lounging back casually, one smartly pressed leg slipping almost sinuously over the other to cross beneath the gleaming surface of the massive desk.

Tilting his head, Bruce set aside the glass and glanced once more at the little notepad, silently urging; "Next."

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

It took all of Clark's considerable acting skills to not grimace at Wayne insinuating he had kissed Lex Luthor. As it was his smile became a little strained and he had to clear his throat to mask his discomfort. Even ignoring the various attempts Luthor had made on Clark's life, the man was just unpleasant to be around. The reporter and had the unfortunate opportunity more than once to interview Luthor and each time it had been twice as bad as this one. At least Wayne offered him drinks and a comfy chair.

Clark had gotten a decent amount of information so far, even if he'd been straying from his planned questions a little. Now he headed back to them, scanning the list and picking one he thought he could probably get away with right now. If he didn't, well Wayne wasn't the only source in Gotham. "There have been rumours about your influence in the company being restricted. Given your recent contributions, I doubt it's actually true, but what would you do if it was?"

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

A brow arched at the disguised Man of Steels reaction to his comments about Luthor. He'd expected one, or perhaps more accurately, hoped for one but Clark had been careful thus far; diligently disguising any discomfort or dislike of both Superman's arch nemesis and Wayne himself. That, if nothing else, spoke highly of the man's dedication and professionalism and Bruce, probably more so than most, could appreciate that. Score one for Superman's moral fiber.

"Restriction? Now that's a question I haven't been asked before." Bruce mused, an expression of curiosity and a fair dose of confusion crossing pale, sculpted features for a moment. Eyes momentarily turned inwards returned to his guest, vacant and empty.

"I'm not sure what you've heard or even if insinuations have been made but the only restrictions I am under are of my own making. I'm not a complete idiot you know. Most people don't listen to me of course, or believe me honestly, but, I know my limitations. If I were to take too active a role in handling the company and stretch beyond my means I'm afraid the cooperation as a whole would take a rather violent nosedive." Bruce chuckled, amused, as if admitting his own short comings and lack of technical knowledge were perfectly harmless facts he touted every day.

"I can't imagine that changing. But if it did, who knows, maybe it's for the better. I don't have the foresight of some nor the ability to see the consequences of my actions. If someone thought perhaps I was a detriment to the company, maybe they're right." He paused, giving Clark a curious look as if expecting the man to confess to hearing secret plots he hadn't been aware of nor could he truly understand. The moment was gone as quickly as it came, whisked away with a flippant shrug and wave of the hand. "I guess I'd just have to cross that bridge when I get to it." Leaning forward once again, Bruce crossed his arms atop the desk not bothering to instigate the next question.

"You know, you're not very talkative for a reporter. Is that normal or a new development? I find it curious. Most paparazzi I can't get to shut up but you, you're very reserved." A light lit up the moguls eyes as if a rather cunning and brilliant idea just occurred to him. "I bet you'd be a fun drunk. You know it's the quiet ones that always turn out to be the most wild. You, I could see you as very passionate, and with your size I bet you'd be a very, mm, forward companion." It was a tease and a flirtatious insinuation all at once. The Batman wasn't entirely sure the alien could get drunk, but Brucie certainly found the prospect to be quite interesting. He was also a decent judge of character even though no one was quite privy to that knowledge. And something in the way Superman carried himself led him to believe those words could very well be true. "You know, I think I'd like to see that."

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Clark's blush was back, but he was a little more prepared this time. "This interview isn't about me, it's about you and your company expanding further in Metropolis." He pushed his glasses back up his nose again, letting his hand fall to his hat, which he'd taken off upon entering the building but didn't give up to the doorman.

Did he want to go drinking with Wayne? Maybe, a little. Clark didn't exactly get much down time between saving the world and reporting on it. Mostly he couldn't justify taking a night for himself to just be with his friends, or by himself. Ma and Pa were the only exceptions, his monthly visits only interrupted by the worst disasters.

"Besides," Clark added to his previous statement, "I very much doubt you could stay conscious long enough to see me drunk." He couldn't help himself with the jibe. Clark still hated the assignment, hated being in Gotham at all, but perhaps he didn't dislike Bruce as much as he thought he would. Or at all really. He was just a vapid rich boy who wanted to do some good in the world while having a bit of fun on the side.

[Ruche Evermehr]

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Another blush, still surprisingly fetching on that golden complexion. But it was definitely softer, better contained than the last one. Still , score one more for Brucie.

"That may be true, and lord knows the world loves listening to me talk about myself," teeth flashed in a roguish grin, the comment flippant and utterly self-centered and not at all apologetic about it in the least. "But it is rather difficult to hold a proper conversation when only one half of the equation is doing all the talking. Sure, I love listening to the sound of my own voice as much as the next guy, but a little stimulation now and then is definitely a plus in my opinion." Bruce knew that with certainty and more than enough experience to back it up. Of course, he was often on the opposite side of the equation much to Jim Gordon's eternal consternation.

Clark's playful remark, perhaps meant to dissuade, caught him off caught and managed to do anything but. A bark of amused and pleasantly surprised laughter ripped through the bright room and a competitive glint flickered across Wayne's face.

"Oh now if that isn't a challenge, if ever I've heard one." Bruce paused a moment, contemplating his guest and the more time that passed in that second of silence the darker, more devilish his expression became. Reaching for the intercom, swift fingers snapped the proper button rather smartly and declared without remorse or interruption, "Cynthia, reschedule my remaining meetings for the day please and have the valet bring up my car. Something's come up."

"Yes mister Wayne." The perky, indulgent voice filtered through the speaker and the man nodded. Standing, Bruce circled the desk not giving his guest a moment to complain and plucked him from his seat with surprising strength. Taking Clark's glass, he unobtrusively slipped it behind the many bottles of expensive beverages not too far away as they passed for later testing, careful of course to appear utterly nonchalant about it. He knew none of the staff would touch anything on that cart. Despite his earlier comments, they knew to steer clear of their bosses supposed vices.

"Come on, we're going to test your theory Mark. And maybe mine if I have anything to say about it." Smirking, Bruce proceeded to drag the reporter from his office, guiding the man towards the elevators without any intention of letting the disguised super worm his way out of it. "And don't bother arguing, I won't take no for an answer. What I do need to know though, is are you an expensive lounge kind of drinker, a slummy bar or perhaps one of the more risqué clubs kind of guy." The billionaire mused, sweeping his gaze once more up and down his companions frame. Anyone else he might have contemplated bringing back to Wayne Manor for some controlled testing of theories. But he knew with Clark's special abilities, particularly the occular ones, that wasn't at all a possibility. Thankfully, he owned enough restaurants and bars across the city that they could still find privacy while Bruce researched his hypothesis.

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

"Wha- I don't think-" He tried to protest but there was no arguing by that point. Me and my big mouth, Clark chastised himself... but he had to smile at Wayne's enthusiasm. This was for work, he reminded himself as he allowed himself to be towed along, resisting the urge to dig in his heels.

Might as well make the most of it.

"It's Clark, Clark Kent, remember? I'm an 'okay with anything as long as I'm not paying' kind of guy. And I would prefer," Clark made sure he had eye contact for this one, using a bit more strength than he normally would to get it, "that you stop trying to flirt with me."

He didn't want to give Wayne any ideas. Making it clear that he did not want to sleep with him was probably for the best given their conversation so far and where they were headed. Even if he ignored it, at least Clark could defend himself later on. It was also making him feel uncomfortable and unprofessional. 'Anything for a scoop' said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Lois Lane. He ignored it in favour of trying to regain freedom of movement. Wayne was stronger than he looked.