"Aha! The rest of your closet is filled with plaid, isn't it? Or various colored t-shirts." All is now right with the world, if Clark only owns one suit. She'd been half afraid he'd gone corporate up in the artic.

With Jor-El as a father and teacher. Sorta.

Mentally shivering at the memory of her one visit up to the Fortress, and the voice that had managed to infuse itself with as much arrogance as her father, Eirene pulls a fifty out of her wallet and sets it on the table.

"That should cover lunch and tip, if you're ready to head out."