So what about that growly bass gets you wild, Superman?
“Talk to me.” The quiet rumble of the Dark Knight, distant and all too close at once muffles all siren and sound, everything that begs Superman to hear. For a time, all he can focus on is the smooth silk of a tone trained and resonant, carefully calculated in its delivery It makes him feel as if for a moment he is the only one in the world.. One sentence as all it takes to pluck him apart by the thread. He doesn’t fear the Batman, but perhaps it is the exhilaration in its simplicity, flooding him with an urge to stand up straight, meet him halfway…This is was what gives him cause for care, another tack upon the crowded many in the bulletin board of his vigilant manner, ever aware of what is possible if he moves with even a fraction below his usual restraint. It’s maddening.
His inner thoughts, words written into the pages of the book that makes Kal-El and Clark all the same. His wants, his needs realized in the form of something more far more suited to the gossip column. Suddenly reminded of where he is, the Man of Steel affects a posture known to invaders and nuisances alike.
“I don’t know who you think you are… But that isn’t any of your business.” The stern look that crosses his face carries no threat, rather the sheer force of the man of tomorrow’s disappointment. He isn’t a brute, but he will not have his feelings reduced to something so base, broadcasted for anyone, including the specter dancing along his thoughts with measured brutality from one evildoer to another.
