He'd been stepping out of his meeting with the Sun when he had stumbled and nearly fallen to his knees, feeling dizzy, blurry, and very unsure. When he felt the feeling pass, and looked up, he found himself in the middle of what looked like a barfight being conducted by LARPers.
A bottle hurled at him and he caught it as he staggered up, lifting it out of the way of two men who were fighting, and kicked one, gently, to one side, darting to the other direction as a woman twice his size lifted a table and hurled it toward a person who looked like nothing else but... well, a dwarf out of that weird trilogy of movies.
Clark caught the table, and set it down, then ducked under a man swinging at him, jabbing two fingers just so, and the man's eyes rolled up, sending him slumping into Clark. Clark gently set him into a chair, and stepped past him as well to the bar counter.
The barman was staring with an open mouth at Clark's performance and the first thing out of his mouth, when one thought about it, made sense.
"Stranger, do you want a job?"
Clark blinked, glances around, then laughed. Why not? He was in a weird place, lost, and either delusional or somehow... what? He took a breath, smoothed one hand down his suit as he put the bottle of whiskey down on the bar counter and nodded. Sure.
"I'll take it." And he raised a hand, catching a heavy mug full fo beer that had been hurled at the bartender from across the room with an impact that sounded like metal; striking metal. He raised it, sniffed it, and downed a long swallow. Hmmm, not bad.
The bartender stared, swallowed, and then nodded. "You're hired."
What else was he to do?
***
2. Bartending
Clark is settling in at this weird town, three days in, now, and as a bartender, a job he knows well, at least, he is finding his feet quickly. He has also noticed a space for someone to own a new farm, and room near another farm to do so, and even asked about it. It would take him time to make money, and earn the renown to be trusted so, but he was working on it.
For now, he worked the bar, his bulk, speed, and calm demeanor making it easier for him to keep the peace here. He had even borrowed a small anvil and bellows, and a large iron pan, and he cooked a little sometimes. A new thing, apparently, here. Plus his crossing of the room had apparently been witnessed by some local bard and been made into a song. Some people still came to see him. Which was silly, he felt, and he regretted, a little, making such a show of it.
But it was work and as he turned to spot another person coming to the counter, he smiled.
Clark Kent/Kal-El/Superman | DCEU
He'd been stepping out of his meeting with the Sun when he had stumbled and nearly fallen to his knees, feeling dizzy, blurry, and very unsure. When he felt the feeling pass, and looked up, he found himself in the middle of what looked like a barfight being conducted by LARPers.
A bottle hurled at him and he caught it as he staggered up, lifting it out of the way of two men who were fighting, and kicked one, gently, to one side, darting to the other direction as a woman twice his size lifted a table and hurled it toward a person who looked like nothing else but... well, a dwarf out of that weird trilogy of movies.
Clark caught the table, and set it down, then ducked under a man swinging at him, jabbing two fingers just so, and the man's eyes rolled up, sending him slumping into Clark. Clark gently set him into a chair, and stepped past him as well to the bar counter.
The barman was staring with an open mouth at Clark's performance and the first thing out of his mouth, when one thought about it, made sense.
"Stranger, do you want a job?"
Clark blinked, glances around, then laughed. Why not? He was in a weird place, lost, and either delusional or somehow... what? He took a breath, smoothed one hand down his suit as he put the bottle of whiskey down on the bar counter and nodded. Sure.
"I'll take it." And he raised a hand, catching a heavy mug full fo beer that had been hurled at the bartender from across the room with an impact that sounded like metal; striking metal. He raised it, sniffed it, and downed a long swallow. Hmmm, not bad.
The bartender stared, swallowed, and then nodded. "You're hired."
What else was he to do?
***
2. Bartending
Clark is settling in at this weird town, three days in, now, and as a bartender, a job he knows well, at least, he is finding his feet quickly. He has also noticed a space for someone to own a new farm, and room near another farm to do so, and even asked about it. It would take him time to make money, and earn the renown to be trusted so, but he was working on it.
For now, he worked the bar, his bulk, speed, and calm demeanor making it easier for him to keep the peace here. He had even borrowed a small anvil and bellows, and a large iron pan, and he cooked a little sometimes. A new thing, apparently, here. Plus his crossing of the room had apparently been witnessed by some local bard and been made into a song. Some people still came to see him. Which was silly, he felt, and he regretted, a little, making such a show of it.
But it was work and as he turned to spot another person coming to the counter, he smiled.
"Welcome. What can I get for you?"