Nexus: For Eights cont'd

[hero_farmboy]

Clark is sleeping. Not entirely peacefully, stressful Lex encounters will do that, but he is sleeping. The rest of the farm is quiet as well, with only the occasional moo audible in the late night air

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[downsidedarling]

Lex should get used to bafflement.

The next thing the surveillance minion ought to notice is Anna descending nimbly from the roof, having awakened at midnight with a serious case of restlessness.

She knows the place is likely being watched, so she's careful not to injure herself getting down from the roof; on the other hand, she knows the place is likely being watched, so she glides down the ladder four rungs at a time, alighting at the bottom with regal grace.

A walk seems like just the thing to clear her head.

[hero_farmboy]

Every movement, as viewed through night vision binoculars, is relayed to Lex via PDA. The boss is still on his way home from Metropolis and minion man isn't about to be caught slacking off, especially if Luthor Jr. decides to swing by on his way.

[downsidedarling]

Eights walks by the side of the road with unconscious grace, lost in thought.

She's following the route Clark drove on his way to Metropolis, simply because it's one that she knows.

It's not entirely impossible that she might pass out of minion man's sight at some point on this journey. The road is lined with trees in places, after all.

[hero_farmboy]

This new development is quickly shared and back up is called in to locate at various points along any possible route she may take. Luthors spare no expense, if they're interested enough.

This particular minion, however, maintains his post. Kent is under watch just as much as the girl is.

[downsidedarling]

Sunrise sees Eight-Hour Chainsaw sleeping peacefully in Clark Kent's bed.

The first soft touch of dawn makes her stir, and she rises, staggering sleepily in the direction of breakfast.

[hero_farmboy]

There is no breakfast here. The only sign of prepared food is leftover coffee and the quarter of a pie that Clark didn't eat last night.

If Eights listens carefully, she may hear soft snoring coming from the sitting room. The farmboy appears to have crashed on the couch after all.

[downsidedarling]

Eights looks from the kitchen to the snoring to her own notable lack of pants.

Shrug.

"I've had a rough day, I can make myself breakfast before getting dressed," she murmurs to herself, poking around Clark's kitchen. It's smaller than she's used to, but surely a simple venture in the direction of pancakes can't be that difficult.

[hero_farmboy]

The faint sounds of movement in the kitchen is enough to rouse Clark from the relatively light sleep he's having. Obviously, he was more tired than he thought and he grumbles softly as he pushes himself off the couch. Barefoot and shirtless, he wanders sleepily into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes, having only been asleep for a few hours.

"What time is it?" He mumbles, reaching over to turn on the coffee maker.

[downsidedarling]

They had lunch, silent and awkward. They drove home. Anna has moved from pensive to restless to outright, if mildly, distressed.

A scant thirty seconds after walking in the door to Clark's house, she leans against a wall in her discomfited, perchy, birdlike way and looks at him.

"Are we going to talk about it?" she asks, abruptly, seeing no need to further quantify the pronoun.

[hero_farmboy]

In that thirty seconds, Clark has tossed his jacket on a kitchen chair, given Shelby a few welcoming pats and got one foot on the stairs intent on changing into completely dry clothes.

The look he gives Anna is honestly confused. "Talk about what?"

[downsidedarling]

"About..." At a loss for words, she falls back on gesture. A sharp wave that encompasses the two of them; the back of her hand brushing the side of her face and twirling out, fingers opening into a tiny shrug. She looks frustrated. Anna often has trouble expressing herself, but usually not to this degree.

[hero_farmboy]

The look on Clark's face does not change. At all.

"You know, I'm not so good at charades."

[downsidedarling]

Anna (Eights) is jogging. She enjoys jogging. And for the deception she's pulling to work, she needs to look like that's the only reason why she's doing it. An exhilarated grin passes across her face as she crosses a field, turns at a tree, and proceeds at a steady pace along a path that exists mostly in her head.

With satisfaction she notes the second-last landmark she picked out for herself. Another thirty feet and she can drop this pretense and start asking some very pointed questions of a man in a ditch with binoculars.

[hero_farmboy]

It's a damn good thing they had decided the field was big enough for two of them to cover. Even with the subjects now separated, surveillance will continue uninterrupted.

The boss has been informed of the current situation and plans have been altered. Really, they couldn't have asked for a better chance had they set it up themselves.

[downsidedarling]

Another turn; another bit of jogging; and there she is, in the perfect spot, not ten feet from the man in the ditch and getting closer. She can't see him and isn't looking in any case, but she knows perfectly well where he is.

Eight feet. Seven. Six. Five. She slows to a walk, as though for a rest. A hand run through her hair affords her the opportunity to glimpse the man's hiding place in her peripheral vision. If he's moved significantly she may have to switch up her plan of attack a bit.

[hero_farmboy]

He wouldn't be a very good minion if he wasn't good at his job. He hasn't moved, but he does tilt his head slightly and touches his left ear briefly.

"Good evening, Ms. Reeve."