Sure enough, the door opens as if they're entering the front foyer of Clark's house. He glances around the entrance way and then stops to listen
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Anna accepts the pie, with a softly murmured 'thank you', and perches on the couch using her lap as a table. As always, her feet are tucked firmly underneath her.
Clark flops down beside her and stretches his legs out in front. It's not the biggest couch in the world and he takes up a lot of space, so their proximity is fairly close. He either doesn't mind, or hasn't noticed.
"This will be the best pie you ever had. Hands down."
Anna is hoping for doesn't mind, but believes hasn't noticed to be more probable.
"Okay," she says, amused.
A moment later, the pie having been given a preliminary investigation: "You know, I think you just might be right on that score. This is some damn good pie."
Anna's review is given a grin in reponse. "No one can resist a Martha Kent pie."
Clark takes a few more bites of his own, leaving the ice cream untouched to eat after, and then settles further back against the couch cushions.
"I figured we'd just kind of hang out here tonight. Tomorrow, I have some work to do but after we could probably head into Metropolis, if you wanted. It's a bit of a drive, but there's plenty to do."
"I believe I was promised the opportunity to make a fool of myself helping you with your farm chores," responds Anna with a tiny smirk. "But that sounds like a great idea."
Her pie and ice cream is devoured haphazardly, in no particular order and from no particular direction.
"If you're awake, you can help, but I'm not going to force you to get up just to perform manual labour. That's what I'm here for," he offers her another small smile.
"Besides, it's not like it'll be a one time thing. There'll be plenty of work to do on other days, or even after we get back from Metropolis."
"Oh, I'll be awake," she says, grinning. "I still haven't quite figured out you livelings and your crazy twenty-four-hour days. Besides, I plan on watching the sunrise. See if it's as pretty as I remember."
"Yeah, us and our insane regular intervals between day and night," he chuckles softly, starting on his ice cream. "It probably is. I don't see as many of those as I do sunsets, but I think I see more than most. Perk of having to get up when the rooster calls."
"Well, I'm sure I'll get used to it quick enough. In the meantime, though, I'll be keeping strange hours." She chuckles back, taking her last bite of pie and tapping her fork against her plate thoughtfully.
Clark gets a fire going and then heads to the kitchen.
"Apple or cherry, warmed up or not, ice cream or no ice cream?" Pie is serious business in the Kent household.
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"The Talon, the place I went to in town? It's the local coffee shop. She used to supply them with all their muffins and pies and cookies and stuff."
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(I have to make him dinner at some point, she resolves. All this generosity is making her feel obligated.)
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"It's not run by the same person anymore and she got busy. She's the State Senator now."
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She won't ask about the body language.
"I don't remember much about living politics, to be honest."
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He hands Eights her pie and motions toward the couch. "Fire should be going good by now."
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"This will be the best pie you ever had. Hands down."
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"Okay," she says, amused.
A moment later, the pie having been given a preliminary investigation: "You know, I think you just might be right on that score. This is some damn good pie."
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Clark takes a few more bites of his own, leaving the ice cream untouched to eat after, and then settles further back against the couch cushions.
"I figured we'd just kind of hang out here tonight. Tomorrow, I have some work to do but after we could probably head into Metropolis, if you wanted. It's a bit of a drive, but there's plenty to do."
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Her pie and ice cream is devoured haphazardly, in no particular order and from no particular direction.
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"Besides, it's not like it'll be a one time thing. There'll be plenty of work to do on other days, or even after we get back from Metropolis."
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