"Calm down, Clark." Schiller stood a short distance away from Clark and said, "Your name is Clark Kent. You're in a bar in Gotham right now. You're safe, and we're all your friends."
"Friends... no... no... traitors..."
"What are you talking about?" Diana frowned, staring intently at Clark as though ready to restrain him at any moment.
Schiller stepped forward and positioned himself in front of Diana, walking toward Clark. But Hal frantically waved at him, telling him not to get any closer. Clark had lost control; no one here could hold him back, and Schiller might be in danger.
But Schiller continued approaching slowly, repeating who Clark was, where he was, and that he was safe. Only when Clark's breathing gradually slowed did Schiller walk over and pat his back.
Clark sat on a barstool, his upper body sprawled across the counter. Sweat dripped from his hair and the tips of his brows.
"Are you okay, Clark?" Hal asked anxiously. "Did you drink too much? Or are you allergic to something in the drink?"
"Is something wrong with your powers?" Diana clearly wanted to offer a more practical guess.
Clark opened his mouth. He had wanted to refute her, but how was a problem with his telepathy not a problem with his powers? So he fell silent.
Schiller signaled Diana not to speak, then said, "Perhaps letting alcohol flow freely through your bloodstream is not a good habit. It may cause you to make poor judgments."
There it was again, Hal thought. Schiller seemed to be explaining it as Clark having had too much to drink, while also accounting for Diana's suspicion. Combining the two, it became Clark letting the alcohol get to him and misjudging his powers, which had caused his sudden loss of control.
Hal could tell