#droidsplode

🦻 ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ: ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ ​🇫​​🇺​​🇱​​🇱​ ​🇧​​🇦​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇾​     — He scratches at his stubble as he looks at the armor(?). It was vaguely familiar. There were so many heroes now. Hawkeye lets out a hum. Bow tapping at the metal head before him. Unsure if this was android, suit, or elaborate Star Wars cosplay he wasn’t in the know of.

Height Comparison. (aka Wolverine is short 2024)

"Well, whaddya know? Finally taller than someone."

Bonus:

// feli rudy french chat ❓

Clark had to wonder how many straws he had with how many LAST ones had been IT today. His suit blazer was nowhere to be seen, his tie loosened, hair a tussled mess. The gray dress shirt he wore was speckled and dampened with a mixture of blood and sweat.

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He'd not expected Rex there, now-—nor had he expected to have to have his wits about him enough to delegate any brain power to socializing eloquently. For a moment he looks taken by surprise, then his face contorts into a scowl.

❝ Yeah...? ❞ it was not a pleasant tone. ❝ Okay, cool. My turn: you look like I could put you in a cheap checkered flannel and you'd try and sell me poorly marketed, poorly formulated beard soap for men. ❞ he spits it out, jerking off his tie the rest of the way and carelessly tossing it onto the counter.

He ached, he hurt. Clark just wanted a shower and to rest and to not think. God, he just wanted to not think for five minutes. The cambion wanted to just leave it at that and, after a very brief fight with himself, offered something between a growl and a groan and then stilled, took a deep inhale in and exhaled.

❝ Before you say anything. It's my blood, I'm fine. Any other questions you have concerning this...❞ he gestured to his disheveled self. ❝ Can be directed to my lawyers. I can get you a card if you want. ❞ he'd held a hand up to stop the man from speaking and then slowly lowered it.

@droidsplode asked: “Let me guess - you need something.”