Chapter 12: A Date with Confusion
The Martian lead had worked. Jemm was now a known quantity, a threat the D.E.O. was actively tracking. My "phantom phone call" had been a success, further solidifying my enigmatic reputation. Now, it was time for the next phase of "subtle integration": a more direct, yet still carefully controlled, encounter with Kara. I'd already broken the ice with the Kryptonian Sun Tea. Now, I needed to solidify the "charming eccentric" persona.
"Operation: Accidental Coffee Shop Meet-Cute. Objectives: Awkward banter, subtle power flex, and absolutely no direct admissions of multi-dimensional existence," I planned, adjusting my jacket in the mirror. My outward persona was meticulously crafted: disheveled but stylish, a hint of intellectual intensity in my eyes, and a perpetually amused smirk playing on my lips. It was a mask, of course, but one I was becoming disturbingly comfortable in. The internal monologue, however, remained a chaotic symphony of fanboy glee, cynical observation, and the constant hum of my powers.
I knew Kara's routines. CatCo interns, bless their overworked hearts, rarely had time for anything but the nearest, cheapest coffee shop. It was a greasy spoon called "The Daily Grind," perpetually smelling of burnt sugar and stale croissants. Perfect.
I found a table near the window, nursing a lukewarm coffee I'd discreetly made taste like pure bliss for myself. My gaze tracked the door, a faint anticipation fluttering in my chest. The D.E.O. wouldn't be looking for me here; my "glitches" were usually tied to major incidents, not casual coffee breaks. This was safe ground. Relatively.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, the bell above the door jingled, and Kara walked in, looking harried but still managing to radiate a surprising amount of sunshine. She spotted me, and a flicker of recognition—and what looked suspiciously like curiosity—crossed her face.
She approached my table hesitantly. "Adam? From CatCo?"
"The one and only," I replied, offering a casual half-salute. "Though, I prefer 'the purveyor of inexplicable oddities' when introducing myself. What brings National City's most earnest assistant to this bastion of lukewarm mediocrity?"
She gave a small, hesitant smile. "Just… coffee. And a few minutes of peace. What about you? Still chasing those elusive cosmic lattes?"
"Always," I sighed dramatically, taking a theatrical sip of my actually cosmic latte. "The search for true flavor, Miss Danvers, is a lifelong journey. Much like the search for a truly comfortable pair of shoes. Or, you know, a planet that isn't constantly on the brink of alien invasion." I caught the subtle widening of her eyes at the last part, a ripple of unease in her composure. "Too close? Nah. Just enough to keep her guessing."
She slid into the opposite chair, her expression a mix of curiosity and slight bewilderment. "You have a very… unique way of looking at things."
"It's a gift," I deadpanned. "Or a curse. Depends on whether I've had enough coffee. Now, tell me, is Cat Grant still demanding her tea be brewed with the tears of mythical beasts? I heard a rumor she tried to replace the water cooler with a fountain of pure ambition."
Kara laughed, a genuine, warm sound that made something in my chest lighten. "You wouldn't believe it. But… thank you. For the coffee, the other day. It… it really did taste like home." She paused, her gaze searching my face. "How did you…?"
"Oh, a trade secret," I said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I have a very discerning palate. And a deeply philosophical understanding of flavor profiles. Some might say I'm... connected to the very essence of taste itself. Or maybe I just know a good barista. The universe is full of mysteries, Kara. Don't spoil the fun by trying to unravel them all at once." I then subtly nudged her own, very ordinary coffee cup. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer passed over it, and a tiny, perfectly formed, ethereal flower floated to the surface of the liquid, then vanished.
Kara blinked, rubbing her eyes. "Did you just…?"
"Did I just... what?" I asked innocently, taking another sip of my coffee. "Perhaps you're just tired. Being a professional assistant to a media mogul must be exhausting. I hear it requires the patience of a saint and the organizational skills of a highly evolved ant colony."
She shook her head, a small, amused smile returning. "You're… really something."
"I get that a lot," I said, shrugging. "So, anything exciting happening in the world of media? Any new superheroes perhaps? Heard there's a blonde one flying around. Seems rather dramatic, if you ask me. All that caped crusading. Can't be good for the dry cleaning bill."
Kara's smile faltered slightly, a hint of unease crossing her face. "I… I wouldn't know."
"Of course not," I said, my voice dripping with mock sincerity. "You're too busy with important assistant duties. Though, between you and me, I always thought the 'Girl of Steel' thing was a bit much. 'The Woman of Mildly Flexible Alloys,' perhaps. Or 'The Lady Who Occasionally Deflects Small Objects With Her Chest.' More accurate, less pressure."
She rolled her eyes, but the amusement was still there. Our banter continued, light and strange, until her phone buzzed, a summons back to CatCo. She rose, still looking at me with that curious, slightly bemused expression.
"It was… interesting, Adam," she said.
"The pleasure was all mine, Kara Danvers," I replied, a genuine smile replacing my sarcastic one. "She almost trusts me," I thought as she walked away. "She's not afraid. Just confused. And that's a start. A very good start." My Anchor Connection with her felt subtly stronger, a warmth in my chest. The game was on, and this time, the playing field was personal.
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