#cleon bby ruN jhkgdhg

[kxllerblond]

cont. (x)

Work was grating-—when was it not? A hell of his own making and one he both detested and depended upon. It was this particular day that he felt that restless itch to be rid of his work-—just for a short time, for a short breather. It was an occasional itch he felt now and again. The sort of itch that resulted in dropped appointments and meetings on a whim, that severed deals in the making that had been brewing for months. All cancelled without a thought because he would simply up and decide he didn't want to deal with it.

So it was really no surprise that he turned to the stranger when addressed, turning so the phone pressed against his ear was now visible. His brows had initially screwed in confusion and then...ah. There it was. His lifeline for the evening, his fate sent excuse to rid himself of the day's responsibilities.

❝ I have the utmost faith you'll figure it out, Charles. You're always talking about your resourcefulness. Put it into practice. ❞ and then he cut the line, pocketed the phone with no hint of a proper goodbye or care for what the other man had to say on the other side of the line.

If this poor bastard had been looking to stray from gaining any unwanted attention, he'd unfortunately hit a sudden stroke of bad luck as he very much now had Clark's attention. His gaze swept over him, a careful and blatant once over.

❝ Is that something you actually want an answer to? ❞ because, yeah. He kind of was giving off that vibe. Sans the implication that Clark looked anywhere close to kindly and not like some sort of cliché villain straight out of some business-crime TV drama.

Clark pointedly ignored the fact he'd only been addressed because of a misunderstanding, a case of mistaking that someone caught up in another conversation had been speaking to them. He ignored it and seemed to be just fine with carrying on as though he had been speaking directly to the stranger.

❝ Oh, darn. You're right. My apologies. And you are...? ❞