Clark sipped on his drink as he gazed over towards you, ignoring the teasing of Lois and the others.

There was something tragic about you, something so magic…about you.

He huffed in annoyance, covering his face with a hand to hide his red cheeks as Lois teased him to go talk to you. And yet he couldn’t. He was too nervous.

There was something so wholesome about you, something so lonesome and he couldn’t put a finger on it.

You were familiar. And he didn’t know why. He gave a fleeting glance towards the others, downing his drink.

Idealism did sit in prison, and chivalry had fallen on his sword a long time ago. And yet Clark was a rather chivalrous man, so maybe he should go talk to you. Figure out why you seemed to familiar to him.

He felt a pull in his chest as he made his way over to you. A painful pull. As if he’d met you in another life or something.