"Well, I.. I- saw you from across the way. Just wanted to ask." Clark murmurs sheepishly, one hand on the back of his neck.

You're at a gala. He's at a gala. It makes sense, right?

And you're beautiful. Maybe it's the champagne, or the glossy, sparkling lights about him, but you're... everything he's wanted. Ever. He can't help but admire you, your grace, your beauty.

"... May I have this dance?"

He looks like a pleading puppy.