#alton.

-- “Zora!” Alton complains as Zora twitches again. “’m not tryin to tickle you. ‘s not my fault the paint’s cold.” He could try heating it up with his abilities but there’s every chance it could explode all over the room.

He’s painting on their arm, drawing muscles and veins and nerves after a few late night conversations on hey, what do you think we actually look like inside? The knowledge that one wasn’t human but nothing beyond that. Human anatomy was science fiction to aliens.

Alton looked at the hand he was painting, the realistic little bumps on his hand holding the brush and the muscles flinching in Zora’s hand.

-- ALTON sighed, leaned back and kicked his boots up on the porch banister. It was a lot to process. “The museum asked him to do what?” He was almost a little hurt they hadn’t come to him. But Alton was far less of a public figure, and for good reason.

“I dunno, Kar. It’s not much different from what I’m doing, is it? Unless they’re just doing Superman stuff. Oh god, that’s what they’re doing, isn’t it? It’s all gonna be Superman stuff.” He stared out at the Sutton’s truck as it padded down the dirt road in front of the Taily farm.

There was a reason he stayed out here and had people come to him instead. It was less of a spectacle, more about learning about Krypton as a people than about Superman and Supergirl as heroes. The country quiet helped make things more serious, the focus on the teaching and not on the spectacle. (Not that Alton didn’t LOVE showing off)

Cue @ least one member of the League that don't know Clark personally to go "Wait there's another Kryptonian and he's just been chilling on a cattle ranch this whole time???"