Homelander’s smile remained firmly in place, but the flicker of confusion in his icy blue eyes was impossible to miss.

“Sorry… You what?”

His voice was smooth, controlled—too controlled. Like he was trying to piece together a joke he didn’t quite get. You shifted under his gaze, suddenly feeling a little smaller under the weight of it.

“I—I’m saying that I—”

“No, no, I heard you,” he cut in, head tilting slightly. “I just don’t see why you’re telling me.”

The grin remained, but there was something calculating behind it now, like he was trying to decide how he should react. Approval? Disapproval? Indifference? What was the right answer?

And that’s what unsettled you most—he wasn’t reacting like a father. He was reacting like a man who knew the world was watching, even when it wasn’t.