Those blue eyes loomed larger in Luthor's vision, like quietly rotating planets. Perhaps Pluto, perhaps Neptune, or perhaps the Earth viewed from a space station.
Alexander Luthor had never imagined that one day, he would compare an alien he regarded with such vigilance and wariness to humanity's cradle and homeland. Yet he could think of no more fitting image for this moment.
But that expression vanished almost immediately, as though the glasses perched on Clark's nose had suddenly raised a shield. The blue eyes disappeared completely beneath the glare on the lenses. The Sniper Bullet crumbled into dust and slowly fell from his palm. Pushing up his glasses, he said, "You should upgrade the quality of your glass, Mr. Luthor. Can we begin the interview now?"
After perhaps only a second's pause, Luthor's heart blazed with fury. Look at him—just like that, calm and unconcerned. As though he had not just crushed a Sniper Bullet, but merely brushed snow from his shoulder; as though he had not saved the life of the smartest human on Earth, but casually picked up a stray cat or dog.
Didn't he know what it meant for a human being to take a Sniper Bullet to the head?
Didn't he know how shocking it was to stop a Sniper Bullet out of thin air?
Didn't he know how much he could have gained for saving Alexander Luthor's life, and how honored he ought to have felt?
No, he knew nothing. This guy just stared with those innocent blue eyes, acting like a clueless idiot.
Luthor remained where he was. He looked in the direction the shot had come from. Clark stood silently in place as well. That silent, indulgent attitude only made Luthor's anger flare even higher.
"I need an explanation, Mr. Kent." Luthor abruptly