"Little Jo knew you were coming, so he went to the orchard to pick some fresh apples. He'll be back soon."
Martha set what she was holding on the table, smiled as she poured each child a cup of warm milk, and pushed the plate of cookies toward them. "Don't be shy. Make yourselves at home. Clark and the others are usually busy, and Little Jo has school, so we rarely have visitors at the farm. I'm very happy you could come."
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent. I'm very happy to be here, too."
Miaomiao happily accepted Martha's kindness, while Damian was far more awkward about it.
To Damian, who had undergone the League of Assassins' harsh training and brutal education since childhood, all softness and weakness were cardinal sins. And the woman named Martha before him was precisely the sort of person his former self would have looked down on most: both soft and weak.
Just think about it. Despite being so weak themselves and knowing nothing about him, they had actually chosen to adopt an alien infant of unknown origin! And even after he displayed superpowers, they had continued to treat him as their own.
To Damian, raised as an assassin, that was simply inconceivable. In the past, he would certainly have called people like that "morons," "fools," and "idiots who didn't know their own limits."
But now, faced with Martha's frank, sincere concern, Damian suddenly found himself at a loss. What he usually heard was mockery, curses, or insincere flattery and pandering with ulterior motives. Damian was familiar with and accustomed to such treatment. He never bothered with the latter, and the former only required a beating. But this sort of gentle, sincere...
Damian suddenly felt the urge to turn tail and run.
"Damian." Miaomiao tugged at his