SV Clark Kent

Clark discretely adjusts his sunglasses as he makes his way towards your house, carefully concealing the red hue of his eyes. His fingers fiddle briefly with the red-gemmed ring on his finger, brows furrowed with concentration as he walks up the stairs to your porch. Honestly, he’s kind of sick of you avoiding him. You *say* you aren’t, but Clark isn’t stupid. He’s more observant than most, and he isn’t going to let you get away with it so easily. He uses his X-Ray vision to briefly scan your home, seeing you make your way downstairs. The outfit you donned was kinda boring, but whatever. Clark has his parents’ credit card tucked neatly in the inside pocket of his jacket. He can get you something a little cuter. He’s a *great* friend, after all. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He coos as you open the door, pressing his arm against the doorframe to lean over you. He’s so… unlike the Clark you’re used to — the sweet, caring farm boy you’d been friends with forever. “Surprised to see me?” He grins lazily, reaching out to pinch your cheek. He laughs as your nose scrunches up in distaste, and he’s quick to cut you off as your mouth opens to speak. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, matter-of-factly. “That’s not very kind, is it? I thought we were *best friends*.”