15458/Caribbean Blue

Caribbean Blue
Date of Scene:	30 July 2023
Location:	Somewhere in the Caribbean
Synopsis:	A planned outing at the beach ends with an unexpected overnight camp-out!
Cast of Characters:	Terry O'Neil, Jon Kent

---

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Where do superheroes go for a beach day?

Well, if you have secret identities, you just go to the beach. However, if you have a public identity (like Terry does), you probably want somewhere you won't be spotted and mobbed for an autograph. When you have Rabbit Holes at your disposal, there is no such a place as too far away.

Granted, Jon can fly at super speed. But you get the gist.

Somewhere in the Caribbean, the beach is stark white, the ocean is impossibly blue-green and transluscent, and the sun is glorious.

The feline stretches and glances around, the Rabbit Hole closing down behind him. The cooler falls to the sand, full of ice and assorted non-alcoholic drinks. There is also a little bag with sandwiches, in case they feel hungry.

He is an unusual feline. He doesn't mind the water. He doesn't mind the sand on his fur. He takes his tank top and jeans off, staying in his competition-grade speedos and sandals, and takes a deep breath.

"This. Paradise!" he says, stretching his arms side to side.

Jon Kent has posed:
When Terry offered an instant-teleport getaway, Jon was hesitant at first. He gets so wrapped up in Duty that it's difficult for him to contemplate just utterly unwinding. But the allure of a secluded beach was more than he could resist. He just finished his first year at Metropolis University, and already the summer was wasting away.

Wearing boogie board shorts, the tall, lanky teen pads barefoot across the beach ankle-deep in water after arriving via Terry's magical portal. He is as pale as a fresh linen sheet, a testament to how much time he spends in his Superboy uniform working. This is desperately needed time away.

"I wonder how sea shells are formed," he comments and he leans down to pluck a conch shell out of the water.

He holds it up to his lips and tries to blow a sound out like in the movies, but starts spitting out salt water and sand from his mouth as he laughs. Finally he tosses the shell back in the water. "That went well."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I'm afraid that sort of thing only works for Arthur. I don't know how he does it, but he suddenly grabs seashells and blows into them and he's, like, first French Horn at the Atlantis Symphony Orchestra or whatever." He might be making this up.

Terry grins and joins John in the ankle-deep water, splashing a little, his fur going dark purple where the water hits it. "The little creature that's gonna live there produces calcium carbonate. It layers it over its life, and that's how sheashells are formed. Isn't that cool?" He reaches over to ruffle his friend's hair, "It's like the equivalent of growing out your hair, because it's part of the mollusk but it isn't alive. SO imagine going around wrapped in long layers of your hair as a home..." he trails off, and takes a few more steps into the water.

"Sorry, I /am/ kind of a nerd," The cat says, looking at the teen of steel over his shoulder with a goofy grin, "Which I guess is how I ended up the head Librarian of the Themysciran Center. I have the bad habit of reading about everything. And sometimes I even remember things."

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon wrinkles his nose in a playful lion growl when Terry ruffles his hair. But the pleased glitter in his eyes indicates no offense was actually taken.

"Well that's just great," he says, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. "I just put something's hair in my mouth."

Finding a nice, flat rock, Jon lines up a shot and throws it. The rock skip-skip-skips across the ocean's surface until it's literally out of sight. "Tell me about where you're from. I don't know much about dimensions," the half-Kryptonian confesses. "Lewis Carroll's writing was inspired by it, right?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The cat laughs, "Oh, if you think that's gross-- you know where chicken eggs come from, right?" the cat's eyes sparkle with mischief, and he wades deeper into the water, stopping at about thigh-high. "Well... I come from two places. Wonderland- yes, Carroll wrote about it after Alice fell through a rabbit hole- a gap between dimensions. Part of me is from there, the Cheshire part of my soul, which used to be my father. The original Cheshire Cat." He turns around to face Jon, hands on his hips. The speedo he wears is red, with, honest-to-goodness, the Vorpal logo emblazoned on the side. Of course he has to have his swimming gear custom-made, in order to accomodate the tail. When he used to swim as a human, he didn't have those problems.

"But I grew up in Brooklyn. Had a human mother. She just never told me that she... you know, fell in love with my dad, who was up here on a Secret Mission Dun Dun Duuuun." He makes dramatic hand gestures. "So I am more familiar with this world than Wonderland. We did go there, with the Titans and all, while you were away." He then leans back and starts floating on the water, lazily. The water is cool, and he sighs. SO much better than the heat back home.

"Wonderland is... a place where nonsense is the reigning force. Where butterflies are actual flying sticks of butter and horseflies are hobby-horseflies. It's a very silly place." He grins, arching his neck to look at Jon over his floating form. "Like me!"

Jon Kent has posed:
Again, Jon-El wrinkles his nose. "Please don't tell me anything gross about eggs. I really love eggs. Let me enjoy them in blissful ignorance. Same with hotdogs." The nineteen-year-old half-Kryptonian's heritage will keep him looking like a high school student for years to come, a fact that Jon is generally unhappy about. He peers about at the water, his youthful-looking face carrying the weight of one who knows the things that heroes know. He wades further into the water.

"So we're both half-breeds then," Jon opines. "Sometimes I feel like I'm not human enough for the humans, and not Kryptonian enough for the Kryptonians." Faster than a human eye could follow, he plunges his hand into the water and plucks out small nurse shark. He observes the creature for a moment as it thrashes in his hand. "Do you ever feel like you would trade it all if you could just be normal, live a normal life?" His tone indicates that he has thought about it a great deal. He releases the fish and it swims quickly away.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry maneuvers himself into a sitting position in the water, and then he stands, his toes touching the sand below, the water up to his hips. He takes a few steps close to Jon and puts a wet-furred arm around his shoulder. Ohboy, he thinks. That conversation.

"I had a normal life and I hated it..." he says quietly, "I didn't have any powers until they manifested. I was bullied. I was tormented at school for being gay. Constantly. I started /believing/ it, deep down. So deep that my mind thought otherwise, but I still had those feelings come up to torment me with doubt. They still do, sometimes, that I am not good enough."

He exhales, and drums his fingers on Jon's shoulder. "... the way I see it, every life chosen means one is not chosen. You gain some things. You lose others. It's up to you to decide if the one you have is worth it?" He turns his head to look at Jon. "Like... now? Now can do something about the bullies."

Jon Kent has posed:
Terry's physical closeness does not appear to make Jon uneasy at all. He is a trusting soul who tends not to read into things. One might call him 'simple' save for those who have spent any time in meaningful conversation with him. Just because he simplifies does not mean he is simple. But making himself be underestimated is an intrinsic survival mechanism, it's deeply ingrained into his secret identity, which is so much more than just a pair of glasses.

The six-foot tall half-Kryptonian smiles down at his friend. "I'm glad you're not bullied anymore. It sounds like you came into your own in a way that was positive and impactful." He draws in a slow, deep breath. "But by Rao's light, Terry, living a double life is wearing me down. Sometimes I don't know if I'm Superboy pretending to be Jon Kent, or Jon Kent pretending to be Superboy. But I can't just be open like you are. I have family to protect, and their secrets are my secrets too."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry ponders this. "You're a Super, therefore everyone expects you to just carry it." He observes laconically. Realizing that that will not be suficient, he adds, "By that, I mean that the expectations of others may be something you might be absorbing too much? Look at me." He reaches over to touch Jon's chin and tilt it down further, "Look at me in the eyes and tell me, with all honesty, how many of us have you made a clearn breast of your tribulations to?" He tilts his head. "If I have my guess, I would say that number is rather slim, no? Outside of you know, Kara, but she's /family/, so she's also burened. You don't get rid of burdens by just shifting them across just three or four pillars, right? You distribute them across a wider area."

"I mean. It occurs to me that I don't /know/ Jon Kent. Now, don't get offended... I know you. But I don't know what's troubling you here-" he brings the hand down and taps Jon's chest. "Everytime I see you, it's blue-eyed cheerfulness, Kansas boy smile, and a pep on your step. By all the world, nothing troubles Jon Kent. Nothing troubles Superboy."

He raises an eyebrow and leans closer to speak quietly. "But that's not quite true. Nobody is like that. Not even Diana."

Jon Kent has posed:
A slow smile quirks across Jon's lips. "Hey, it was *your* idea to bring me on this little mini-vacation so you have to deal with angsty, emo Jon." Some of his positive spirit starts leaking back in.

There is a kind of...vibe involved with standing this close to a Kryptonian. It's not a casual thing. Here stands a paragon of truth and integrity, a bit elemental and insistent in his intensity. He even radiates a bit more warmth than a human. What he makes of Terry's physical contact is hard to read. He doesn't shrink from it at all, but he also doesn't return it. Jon is not quite so worldly as Terry...or perhaps not so worldly as Terry leads others to believe he is.

"The price I pay to be Jon Kent can be steep," Jon says with a small shrug. "But we all pay our prices because the world needs us. But sometimes I wonder what it would like to just be a human college student, studying, living, chasing girls or boys, and all of that. I'm among them, but I'm not one of them."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"... I see we're coming down with a case of Milan Kundera. It's a little early to be in your existentialist phase, but I think I can help you with some of that. Come." The cat playfully grabs Jon's hand and stats pulling him towards the beach. It is pantomime, of course, because if Jon doesn't want to move, hardly any force on Earth would move him. His intended destination is not far- just the part of the shore that is barely lapped by the waves, there to sit both of them down side by side.

"Sit your butt right here and tell me what a day in the life of Jon Kent is like. Not Superboy. Jon."

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon is an agreeable sort, and he likes Terry, so he grips Terry's hand in return and follows along where he is led. He flops down in the sand next to his friend, grinning in that way that one grins when he has no idea what's about to happen -- part nervousness, part curiosity, part excitement.

He puts an arm around Terry's shoulders, an arm that can crush hardened steel but now lays as gently as a lamb over his friend's shoulders. "Well it's summer, so I get up at dawn when the roosters start fussing," he starts. "I go out to the hen yard and get eggs for gram. Then I have cows, chickens, and horses to feed." Then he adds: "You *have* to feed the chickens first or they get really irritated." Maybe he's joking? It's all said so deadpan and matter-of-factly that it's hard to tell.

"Once the animal are fed, I go inside for breakfast. I have to eat a lot, like way more than humans do, so gram usually makes me a dozen scrambled eggs, six or eight pieces of toast, a bunch of bacon, maybe some cut up fruit depending on what the farmer's market had in stock, and usually some cinnamon oatmeal." He furrows his brow and look at Terry. "Surely you don't want to hear all this nonsense," he blurts out, suddenly self-conscious. "You're gonna fall asleep from boredom."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The cat easily snakes his own arm around Jon, though his has to be at waist level, since his shoulders are being occupied. "What? I've never been to a ranch or a farm, Jon!" He glances up at the Kryptonian. "This stuff? Not part of my normal experience. Jon, when I was working for Lois, I used to interview all sorts of people. Heroes? Yes, but also - there's this guy in Brooklyn who has a pencil collection. Some of those pencils, he claimed, were touched by comic book legends. He could tell you about the bite marks on some of those--" He leans in on his friend and gives him a reassuring squeeze, "The first thing you learn is that there are no boring people, only boring storytellers. You know... from what you just said, I can see the dutiful grandson. The sweet guy who does the things he knows need to be done, even if they're not pleasant to do. That says something, doesn't it?"

Then, he adds quietly, "But it also means that you are the self-denial kind, too, at times. You will think of others way before you start thinking about yourself. That runs you ragged." He patpats Jon's side.

Jon Kent has posed:
"Duty runs in our family," Jon says sagely. Then he just bursts out laughing. It's an honest laugh from the belly, the kind that can't be faked. "Wow that sounded so self-righteous. It makes me sound like an...a-hole." When he says 'a-hole' he lowers his voice to a whisper for that one word. Jon refuses to swear and even when abbreviating a swear he won't speak above a whisper. With his free hand, he wipes moisture from the laughter from his eyes. "Look, we all do our part. You're a member of the Titans. The *TITANS*. So it's not like I have some corner on the market for sacrifice and service."

But the young half-Kryptonian does grow quiet and wistful for a beat or two. "But yeah, you're right, I probably put others in ahead of myself maybe a bit too much. You're not the first person to tell me that. Living two lives means never living either one of them fully."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Or maybe," The cat says quietly, his hand moving to rub Jon's back in a consoling gesture, "You have two ways of living the same life? Superboy gets to save people. Jon Kent gets to save himself?" he tilts his head, glancing at Jon.

"There's nobody else on this beach, and you've got a cat right next to you, so believe me- it's perfectly okay to be selfish right now. What does Jon want? You can tell me and I won't tell a soul."

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon-El tips his head to the side so it rests on Terry's head. "I want to sit here and watch the sun go down and shut out the world and not worry about what emergencies are going on where." His cheeks grow bright red, perhaps with shame at admitting he wants to shut out the world for a time.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal smiles a little, letting Jon rest his head on him, and reaches up with a hand to ruffle the dark hair. "Hey, that sounds like a plan. It just so happens that sunsets are my specialty. Second only to the Little Prince," he murmurs, and tilts his head just a little so he can look at Jon.

"Any emergencies can be handled by the team right now. They're capable. I mean, all any villain needs to do is cuss at Raven and they're locked in the Dungeon Dimensions until dinner, minimum." He gives his friend a little nuzzle on the cheek, and his hand comes down to squeeze a shoulder. "But enough about the world. Let's talk about me!" he says, clearly joking.

Jon Kent has posed:
The young half-Kryptonian just shuts his mouth and enjoys the sunset and the closeness of a friend and the blessed, blessed quiet. Jon Kent spends to much energy every moment that he is out in public with all of the many moving parts involved with making the world believe that there is no possible way that Jon Kent is Superboy just because he's wearing glasses, so it's nice to have friends and teammates who know who he is around whom he can just...simply...relax.

But finally he blurts out a small laugh. "Okay, yes, let's /do/ talk about you. Tell me three things about Terry O'Neil."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Hmm. Three things? Okay." Even in summer, the feline enjoys warmth, so the half-kryptonian being like a solar battery is a plus. It's good they're by the water, so he doesn't doze off draped over him because that's a *cat* thing. "Well... you already know I'm a history nerd," he says, a finger playing with the curls in Jon's hair idly, "so that doesn't count. Hmmm... I like retro synthwave music and retro eighties bands like the Killers... It's sometimes hard to hold back my impulses from the Cheshire side and therefore tend to make bide decisions..." he chuckles. "And some say I'm an incorrigible flirt. But those are rumors, slander." he glances over.

"And what about Jon Kent? Three things?"

Jon Kent has posed:
A little snort from Jon. A smile. "I hadn't noticed you're a flirt." The cat-man is all but completely wrapped around Jon at the moment. But Jon is a great sport about it. Cats are quite physical, so perhaps this is to be expected? He even grabs a finger-and-thumb of Terry's fur and give it one, two, three gentle tugs.

"Well, okay," Jon rolls into himself. "I get up every morning with the roosters -- usually the sun isn't even out yet -- and do farm work feeding the animal and making repairs before school." He pauses, thinking. "I'm majoring in sociology because I want to be a lawyer to help underprivileged and under-represented people have justice in their lives. And I *hate* white chocolate like poison."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"You mean it /isn't/ poison? Dark chocolate or GTFO, am I right?" He grins, and he lets out a mock yelp at the tugs. He gives Jon's hair three light tugs, not hard at all. "I think it's great that you want to be a lawyer for the underprivileged. You'll make a great one..." he glances at him, "You don't even need to wear your super-suit and you'll be a hero." He raises an eyebrow, "Although I am pretty sure the suit is more flattering than a three piece suit."

He rolls his eyes, and then looks at the setting sun. "... I don't like wearing a lot of clothes when I'm covered in fur. Summer is the absolute worst. I still haven't found a suit that keeps me cool without it just being, basically swimwear. Which is what Tigra runs around in. But I'm not going to do /that/. Because slippage is a thing."

He purses his lips. And then chuckles. "But I love coming to the beach to cool off."

Jon Kent has posed:
Pulling Jon's hair is a lot like trying to tug on one of the the mooring lines that holds a battleship to the pier: basically, good luck. But Jon's a nice guy and good sport, so he gives a courtesy wince, wrinkles his nose, and says, "Ow!" But there's a goofy grin on his lips as he does.

"So this cat form of yours? Is that, like, your natural form? Were you...born as an anthropomorphic cat? I mean, if you were that must have freaked out your parents?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry laughs and shakes his head, "No, I was born human. I only have been doing the cat thing for three years..." he hmms. "Come to think of it, I don't think you've ever seen me in person as a human, have you?" An ear twitches. "Would you like to?" His finger traces circles on Jon's shoulder as he thinks. "I need a mirror or something reflective to see my eyes, that's how I transform. It's a sort of... I dunno, metaphor, maybe? Doors to the soul, that kind of thing?" He turns his emerald-green eyes on Jon, and smirks. "Although I have been told that the only thing they can see in my eyes is that I am waiting for dinnertime to come around."

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon stands up. Obviously Terry doesn't need help getting up, but Jon's an old-world gentlemen so he holds out a hand to assist. Sometimes, coming from the likes of Jon Kent, it doesn't carry an insulting vibe. He is the Goodest Boy, and it is in his nature at a molecular level to help others.

"I have never seen you looking like a human. Do you need an actual mirror? I can fly and get one. Or can you use the water?" Jon tips his head curiously.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Hmm, the water might not, it's too transparent. .." He takes Jon's hand and stands up. He keeps a hold of his hand for a few seconds as he thinks. "Actually..."

A small rabbit hole opens. Jon will be able to see a bedroom, rather neatly kept, and he fishes a small hand mirror from the night-stand. "I know where I can always find one!"

Letting go of Jon's hand, he steps back several steps and holds the mirror up to his face, and says the words:

"We're All Mad Here!"

When the purple light fades, Terry O'Neil, human, is left in his place. He is pale, like all gingers, with a slight tinge of red due to the time of the year- the sun is never kind to them. He is handsome, in a boy-next-door kind of way, with slightly elfin, freckled features and green eyes. The mop of unruly red hair almost reaches his shoulders, which are broad and muscular, an athlete's build. He is still wearing the competition speedos.

"Tadaa!" he says, and takes a bow. "That'll be five bucks for the magic show."

Jon Kent has posed:
Canting his head first to one side, then to the other, Jon seems beguiled by this change. He stands there transfixed for a moment. Magic is not something that is part of the vocabulary and trajectory of the House of El for the most part, and Superboy himself has a particular vulnerability to magic. And here it is, right in front of him.

"That's..." Jon murmurs. "You should... why don't you..."

He manages to glance down finally. "So, um, which form would you consider your primary form?" he asks, reaching back to rub the back of his own neck as he gazes at the sand.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry reaches out with a fingertip to tap Jon's chin, "Ah ah ah, hasn't grandma taught you that it's not good manners to leave a sentence dancing? It could get tired and fall into the abyss." He chuckles. "Why don't I-- what? You can't just mutter that out and not expect me to not ask questions!" He puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head. "My primary form? I don't have one. I'm one or the other as I feel like. They're both me. Different sides of me." His smile widens with a mischievous cant. "Why? which one do you prefer?"

Jon Kent has posed:
Drawing in a deep breath and stands straight -- the transformation from shy, slump-over teenager to a Kryptonian standing tall and straight is a palpable one, and one can easily see how the Kents and Els hide their identities without masks or magic. It's...almost like it's a completely different person standing in front of Terry in the tick from one moment to the next.

Slowly and quietly Jon says, "I was going to say, why don't you appear like this more often. You're...striking." He shrugs a little: a gesture of supplication. It's probably an easy guess as to which form he prefers.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I'm nothing special, Jon." Terry grins and takes a few steps, closing the gap between them. "Like, for the first two months I worked at the planet, people used to think I was Jimmy. Of course, that was before I filled out a little more." He glances at Jon, his posture and attitude, the difference. He does blush a little at the compliment, but hopes it will be taken as nothing more than a little sunburn.

"But thank you. You are pretty striking yourself, blue eyes." And then, he takes a step closer, the space between them just a few inches, and playfully stands on tiptoe to match heights with Jon. It isn't even close. "... earlier you said something about chasing girls. Or boys. You know, that's patently unfair. Aren't you capable of outrunning them all?" he asks. "After all... don't you have super-speed?"

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon-El looks upward and exhales. He bats his bangs out of his eyes. Damned things. "I have, well, you know, never *actually* chased. It's not that people haven't caught my eye, but it's a difficult decision to bring someone into my world. Forces that can literally destroy galaxies come after my family. How do I justify bringing someone into that?"

He turn his back to Terry and takes a few steps. "I hope I haven't done something to lead you to..." He sighs. "I mean, I know that Gar and Kian..." He is leaving all kinds of sentences hanging today. Grandma would be even more displeased than if Jon put his elbows on the table.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry takes a few steps after Jon, and he reaches over to put a hand on his back. "Gar and Kian don't make any objections to me spending time with a close friend. It is the way of Kian's world." A few more steps, and he is beside the half-Kryptonian, one arm around the other's waist. "I understand the weight that you're under. I've faced some of that, too, you know." He peers at Jon's face, trying to read his expression.

"And nevermind what I think, I want to know what you think. You leave too many things dangling, probably to protect people. But I'm not someone you need to protect, you know." He smirks. "... I don't want to presume anything, I've found it's always better to just say what you mean."

He lets that rest there for a few seconds, and adds, "So..." he glances at him and tilts his head, encouraging him to speak.

Jon Kent has posed:
Silence is Jon's initial reply. And the look on his face that Terry searches is an expression of conflict and confusion all tucked behind the veneer of kindness that he always wears. But finally:

"I feel like I can't give you anything...you know...romantic. *If* that's even what you're looking for." A breath. A beat. "I feel like it's so nice when you touch me because I don't get touched like that. And I want to be." A breath. A beat. Earlobes and neck flush red. He turns and faces Terry and takes Terry's hands in his hands. "But not by you because we are friends. And teammates. And your lifestyle of polyamory, which I'm not judging at *all*, isn't a lifestyle I can fit into." He peers into those green eyes. "I could sink you into this sand all day and all night and it would be amazing. It would be my *first*. But I don't think I want that sort of relationship with you." His Kryptonian hands squeeze Terry's hands, not painfully, but in a way that no human can squeeze. It's a show of strength and a show of *protection* and affection.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry's grin turns into a smirk and there is a certain cant to his head that just screams Groucho Marx. "So what you are telling me is..." he glances down at the sand below them, and then up at Jon. "That you want to bury me in the sand and I'd be your first murder victim?"

He lets that hang in there for a second before speaking again. "Cheshire lesson 101, Jon Kent: if you hand me a line, I /will/ take it, and it will be absolutely your fault." Apparently, you can take Cheshire out of the boy... but it doesn't do that much apparently.

Jon Kent has posed:
That one was a direct hit. C-6. You sunk my battleship! A shocked expression crashes over Jon's features at Terry's glib expression. "Wait! What? No! That wasn't..." He made himself just vulnerable enough that Terry was able to get one though the defenses. But he's quick-witted enough. He quickly realizes he's being teased by his friend. That turns his cheeks red and he shakes his head, laughing.

"Okay, you got me," the young half-Kryptonian says. He hooks one finger inside his own cheek and tugs, like a fish caught on a hook. "I deserved that."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"You sure did. That digging in the sand quip..." he shakes his head with a smirk, "I literally could spend hours telling you every single variant and every single permutation I could make out of that line. I'm not an amateur at this, you know I /used/ to write for a living?"

He pauses, and there is a slight twinge of regret on his face. "Well, that feels like a lifetime ago, but the point stands. Words are dangerous around me in a figurative way. Be glad I'm not Raven, then they become literal."

By this point, Jon has either learned that Raven is terrifying and jokes about it, or hasn't found out and thinks it's a joke. Those are the only two stages of Titanhood awareness when it comes to the sorceress.

Jon Kent has posed:
Sliding his hands into the front pockets of his board shorts, Jon turns to the last slivers of sun showing on the horizon. He bumps Terry's shoulder with his. "I haven't really dealt with her much, so I guess I don't follow. I haven't spent much time with the Titans. I regret that. I'd like to spend more. It's just hard for me to change my patterns." A small shrug. "Maybe I need to learn to be more flexible about things. Grams is always trying to loosen me up."

"So what other kind of cool things do you do? I know you can change your form. You can open portals. What else ya got?" Then he looks at Terry suddenly. "I mean, *if* you want to talk about it. I don't want...want to pry."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Well, I can't demonstrate them like this!" he says with a grin, and gestures, "And the sun's set enough that there's not enough light to see my eyes." He takes a few steps, and sits down on the sand, cross-legged. "I guess you're just going to have to wait for the sequel, right?" he shoots his friend a teasing glance, "You know how it goes, 'Vorpal will return dot dot dot.'" He actually spelled out the ellipses. He leans back on his hands, stretching a little. "But let's be frank, nothing I can do is nearly as cool as being a Kryptonian. You guys have it all, the powers, the brains..." He tilts his head, "And the looks! There's little else for the rest of us to go around."

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon remains standing. He folds his arms across his chest -- the body language of someone who is feeling self-conscious. He is utterly silent for as long as either one of them can bear it. The sunset ticks 2 or 3 shades darker. Then, in a whisper:

"I think about that all the time." Not in a positive way, if his tone of voice is any indication. "There are times when I think I'd give anything to be normal."

He looks down at Terry. "I'm sorry if I've been a bummer. This is...this is what happens when I try to be myself. Sometimes I think that Superboy is all I'm good at being." The utterly pale body: too many hours spent in his Superboy uniform. He draws in a breath. "Thanks for hanging out, Terry. I'll see you around the Tower."

Then instantly he thunders upward in the sky with such speed that it creates a momentary sand cloud where he was standing. In the distance a boom can be heard when he goes supersonic.

Some people know how to make an exit.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Note to self-- don't talk about Kryptonians," Terry mutters to himself after Jon has made his exit. He can't begin to imagine what it was like growing under the pressure of perceived perfection and a father like... well, Superman. He grew up with an absentee father and a mother marked by a silent but angry streak of abandonment, and not knowing nothing about his heritage. The notion of someone pointing out the strengths of his self as a cause for self-doubt and self-abasement is something that wasn't in Terry's natural vocabulary... oftentimes he's felt that the Cheshire side of him is the best part, the part that shores up the rest.

But, he reflects, that's because there's only one Cheshire Cat- always and forever alone- whereas every Kryptonian who pops up has to measure against the impossible looming presence of Superman... and what that means for their identity.

So, in retrospect, if he had thought about it, saying that /should/ have been obvious to Terry. But this was one of those moments where the Cheshire side playing blithe resulted in someone's feelings getting hurt- they were talking about powers, and by this point it's almost tradition to acknowledge the Kryptonian as the King of Hearts in the deck. As he's said before, he can sometimes make bad decisions.

"I'm sorry," he says, knowing Jon is too far to hear him by now. He reaches for some of the beverages in the carrier and opens one in the darkness, listening to the sound of the waves and watching the moon and the stars in a beautifully unpolluted sky. He did mean what he said about not being able to see his eyes.

"Guess I'm camping out at the beach tonight." Thank goodness he likes coconuts, though.