Chapter Text
Clark wouldn’t say he was comfortable ignoring the rules, but he certainly wouldn't lie and claim the idea made him uneasy. Of course, the fact that there was a very convenient break room labeled ‘Press’ didn't mean there was a rule that the Press invited to the conference had to stick to that one room when they weren’t attending panels or walking the exhibiting floor.
Of course, maybe years of working with Lois ‘B&E’ Lane had him reading a little too much into this group's decisions. It’s not like there were many actual restrictions at a conference for medical research. Or many expectations for foul play.
Not many, but never zero. At least three companies here had some connection to Luthor Corp after all.
Clark was reviewing some of his notes from a panel he agreed to cover for one of the others, since his attendance here was really more a matter of covering ground than any real investment in any of the expected presentations or announcements, when the door opened and Bruce Wayne walked in. He wondered if the designated Press resting area was a request by Wayne Enterprises, because the look of dismay on his face as he saw the gathered press badges was almost comical.
Wayne leaned out of the room, double checking the wall for the press sign he clearly thought he had missed, and then back inside to confirm these were, in fact, press he had walked in on.
“Minchah anyone? No? Great, carry on,” he said, and then immediately walked out. If he had been any faster, Clark would probably have been able to see the little air silhouette he left behind him.
“What’s a min - “ Tessy tried asking, tripping over the ׳ח׳ and chewing on it. “Min-khah? Was that one of the pacemaker companies that presented?”
One of the others shrugged, conversation continuing. Bruce Wayne was famously weird about the press, no one would question him inventing an entire product to avoid them. Clark had only brought a recorder and a notepad with him today, since he was just auxiliary to the usual tech and medical desks and had mostly agreed to come because one of the sponsor companies had once been a subsidiary of Lex Corp until some really elegant but also nasty legal maneuvering had cut them free and left them practically drowning. Clark had hoped he could find out who their new investors were, and that maybe some of their output could point to why Luthor had abandoned them to start with. It only took seconds to gather himself, dumping his empty cup on the way out and hurrying after Wayne, who was turning a corner in the opposite direction of where the majority of the press were supposed to be.
It was always a bit of an internal debate in his lines of work, whether to call out after someone and risk them taking off, (a move Wayne had been known to employ when avoiding people), or to barrel down the hallway like the lineman people assumed he had been in high school and risk scaring them. He chose the lesser of both evils, using just a smidge of super-speed to power walk down the empty hallway and catch Wayne just as he turned the corner.
“Mr. Wayne!” he called, sliding in next to him.
“Sorry, no comment, contact my PR department for a statement on the medical conference and what W.E. looks forward to seeing from this year's presenters, bye.” Wayne gave him a polite, if ruthless, grin. More a baring of teeth then anything. Clark could appreciate that.
“Sorry, not looking for a comment, minchah?” Clark had made a habit of keeping an old kippah in his suit jacket, figuring it folded pretty flat and you never knew when you would need one. He slid it on now, giving Bruce the sheepish little smile his Pa used to say could trick the eggs out under a brooding hen.
“Ah. Sorry about that.” The smile Wayne gave him was small, hardly more than a twitch on the left side of his mouth, but his eyes relaxed and those curiously sharp eyebrows of his straightened out.
The sudden shift made him seem so much more approachable Clark got whiplash. So this was what people meant when they called him charming.
“You do know there's a shul about five minutes from here?” Oh that sounded confrontational, would Wayne think he was being confrontational? “If you’re having a hard time collecting people, that is.”
Wayne snorted, turning another corner. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. “Yes, but it’s cold outside, and I’m not telling my assistant to walk in this weather. He only missed the minyan he was going to daven with because the panel I asked him to attend ran overtime -” Wayne clicked his teeth shut. He hadn’t meant to volunteer that information. Clark wondered if he always felt this upset about mildly inconveniencing his employees.
Someone who Clark could only assume was the assistant, based on the W.E. badge and the little navy kippah that matched his tie, rushed over to them from one of the side hallways, stammering something about none of this being necessary and really Mr Wayne… Clark could only assume he had overheard Wayne’s previous comment somehow. Wayne interrupted him with a gentle clap on the back, half turning to Clark without slowing down.
“Clark Kent, Tzvi Markowitz, Tzvi, this is Clark. Clark, if you do want a comment, Mr. Markowitz is the assistant I was assigned specifically for this conference. He works in the W.E. medical division and will probably have more interesting things to say about it then I ever could.” Mr. Markowitz, who looked about 21 if he was day, did a sort of half lean around his boss’ back, smiling politely and shaking Clark’s hand while still trying to argue with Wayne.
“Mr. Wayne it really is perfectly fine, I have a coat! And a scarf! It’s not even that far or anything, I double checked the map, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble - “
“Nonsense, this is a medical conference in Metropolis, I found us a minyan in under ten minutes.” Bruce faced them both as they turned into one of the windowed corridors that faced the bay. “See?” he said, gesturing at the about fifteen people behind him, “Jewish mothers everywhere are overwhelmed with pride.”
The group started arranging itself, Tzvi moving forward as Wayne stopped, someone pulling out a phone to figure out east while someone else pointed to the visibly setting sun outside the curtain walls.
“I never told you my name,” Clark moved a little closer to Wayne as everyone shuffled into a nominally more organized position.
“Clark Kent, Daily Planet. You wrote an article about the amount of lead in Metropolis’ infrastructure and the absence of any proper programs to deal with it, as well as the possible effects it was having on the population. It inspired several of our initiatives in Gotham, you know.” Clark hadn’t known that. Wayne gave him a sideways glance. “And of course I know you, you’re press. I always know press.”
“Besides,” Wayne continued quietly as the group finally settled, “I never told you my name either.”