OUT. OF THE WAYNE MANOR – SECOND FLOOR – NIGHT
CLARK, donning his SUPERMAN outfit, floats by BRUCE’s room window, watching him dress up to sleep. It bothers him to spy on Bruce. He can hear the voice of DIANA judging him for it.
You’re stalking him.
I disagree. Stalking usually involves walking, and I’m flying.
It’s still stalking. And he’ll think the same.
So be it. He’s being unreasonable, leaving the League like that.
It was uncalled for. You know that.
Clark’s eyes are sad as Bruce buttons his shirt, unaware of his presence.
I don’t know why he always chooses work over me,
a chance of dying over being with me…
It’s nothing personal.
I know, but it feels like it.
Bruce piles a few pillows on his bed, ready to lie down. Bobbing by the window, Clark sighs, resigned.
Good night, Bruce…
Clark flies away. Bruce looks at the window.
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