The old folks inside were chatting up a storm, while the young people outside found they had plenty in common.
What surprised Lynn was that Superman, with those thick brows and big eyes, was actually quite talkative. He was nothing like Lynn's stereotypical image of a stern, unsmiling Superman.
Maybe Superman with glasses and Superman with a cape weren't the same person after all?
Lynn raised a hand, wanting to run it through his hair and pull off some kind of Hair-Gel Hand move, but he held himself back.
"My father said you bought the farm next door. He also said that while inspecting it, you nearly crashed a little plane while spraying pesticides... Sorry."
Superman smiled apologetically. After a brief pause, he continued, "Why? Can I ask why?"
Lynn was 183 centimeters tall, but standing beside Superman, he looked like a scrawny stick. Superman was not only tall—he also had muscles fit for a bodybuilding competition. When someone like that suddenly shoved both hands into his pockets and frowned, the pressure was undeniably intense.
Lynn got a little distracted. "Why? Why what?"
Clark Kent smiled, and his demeanor immediately turned simple and kind again. "You're rich. In your twenties, you could casually take out several million in cash to buy a farm in a foreign place.
"Sorry, I don't mean anything by it. It's just that, in my impression, someone like you, at your age and mine, should prefer those... those..."
Clark could not find the words, so Lynn smiled and picked them up for him. "The dazzling nightlife, the glittering luxury, the flattery, the compliments of questionable sincerity, the pleading, the indulgence...
"Is that what you mean, Clark?"
"Yeah."
Clark nodded and smiled at Lynn. "But you don't like those things. You like farming."
"More than that. I'm