Lois set down her fork.
"Doctor Yang, why are you cutting the steak into slices three millimeters thick?"
Yang Ming glanced down at his plate.
The silver dinner knife made half a turn in his hand.
"Habit."
"This is dinner, not an operating table."
"Thick pieces of meat are inefficient to chew."
"Are you eating dinner or performing an autopsy on the steak?"
Yang Ming picked up a slice of beef, dipped it in sauce, and put it in his mouth without a change in expression.
Sitting across from him, Clark couldn't hold back a laugh.
Lois turned to him.
"You're laughing? The guest you brought is ruining my dinner with a surgeon's standards."
"He isn't usually like this."
Clark thought for a moment.
"At least when he's with me, he usually charges first."
"I'm charging this time, too." Yang Ming swallowed the beef. "Transporting a mothership between worlds. Labor costs extra."
Lois raised an eyebrow.
"Weren't you going to rescue people?"
"Rescuing people and charging fees aren't mutually exclusive."
Yang Ming set down his dinner knife and picked up his glass of water.
"A hospital doesn't operate for free just because a patient is dying."
Lois looked at him, then suddenly laughed.
"If you weren't wearing those glasses, I'd probably think you were a villain."
"A lot of people say that."
"Are they right?"
"Mostly depends on whether they owe me money."
Clark lowered his head to cut the bread on his plate, unable to stop smiling.
Yang Ming leaned back in his chair, finally showing a little fatigue.
"Take me with you when you go to Gotham tomorrow."
Clark paused.
"Aren't you going to rest?"
"I've already rested for three hours."
"That doesn't count as rest."
"For a doctor, getting three hours of shut-eye is the equivalent of