Clark had Krypto.

And Krypto was medium-size. Short-haired white dog, wagging tail, eyes bright with excitement the moment you stepped into Clark’s apartment. Before you could even take off your shoes, the dog bounded toward you, barking happily, paws nearly knocking you off balance.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was instant—that old fear you hated admitting still lived in you. The memory of a dog snapping when you were younger, the bite that left a scar and a phobia you never quite shook. Cats had always been safer after that. Calm. Lazy. Predictable. Dogs? Too much, too loud, too eager.

“Hey, Krypto, sit!” Clark’s voice was firm but kind, and to your shock, the medium-sized dog obeyed instantly, dropping onto his haunches with a little whine, tail thumping against the floor.

Clark gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry. He just… really likes people.”

You swallowed, heart still racing, but tried to play it off. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Clark tilted his head, studying you like he always did when he caught something in your tone. “You don’t like dogs?” he asked softly.