14215/The Food King's Court

The Food King's Court
Date of Scene:	20 March 2022
Location:	Food Court - LexCorp Tower
Synopsis:	While covering a local speed eating competition, Clark Kent discusses humanity and marshmallows with Saoirse.
Cast of Characters:	Superman, Saoirse Flynn

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Superman has posed:
"And welcome, Metropolis, to the annual King of Food tournament! We have twenty competitors all eager to be crowned the next munchies monarch. These men and women are willing to give their lives in pursuit of greatness -- or, at least, their stomachs! There will be three rounds of calamitous chow and daring dining, ranging from the mouth-watering specialty hot dog challenge to the spice-off tie breaker if none of our portly prospects prosper over the other pretenders!"

The booming voice, a forty-something local radio host who covers the culinary arts, is seated at the judge's table, surrounded on his left and right by a row of food court franchise owners, some minor local celebrities, and others. The various participating eateries have offered heaping amounts of their products for the competitors at great bulk discounts, which will be devoured and digested at gut-breaking speeds over the course of multiple rounds to determine who is truly the King of Food.

A healthy crowd has gathered in the decorated food court, standing or sitting in the open central area beneath colorful banners. People are packed into the chairs, tables, and booths normally used to eat, all of them having visual access to the raised dais seating the contestants.

A local journalist with the Daily Planet, one Clark Kent, is seated near the front, a cameraman seated next to him.

"Aw, chin up, Clark," the cameraman declares, giving the man a pat on the back. "There's always next year!"

The man called Clark sighs again and rests his head in his hands. He'd failed to qualify for the competition -- everyone gave the farm-bred bull solid odds through sheer size, but it turns out the meek dweeb has a sensitive stomach, too. He hardly made it through the preliminary rounds without vomiting. He looks crestfallen, his glasses-magnified dull eyes a sad and faded blue, his mouth in a tired line, his shoulders slumped.

"Yeah," Clark agrees. "There's always next year. Make sure you get a good shot of all the contestants."

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
Not too far from the contestants at a booth set up for particpating sponsors is a booth for Ultra Puff Marshmallows. Quasi-spokeswoman Saoirse Flynn is there with a couple others passing out trial packages of the marshmallow campfire special, a smores-flavored marhmallow. She's rather casual today wearing https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EK94FLbWkAEFl3h?format=jpg&name=medium along with a pair of jeans and sneakers. Her sneakers have little marshmallow patches on them, and she has a very light white jacket with marshmallows on the back, over the left chest, and on the sleeves. With the word 'Ultra Puff' under.

The blonde has watched, she would have participated but being largely a nanotech construct she can probably eat about anything, and about what she wanted of it. Not fair competition. She has however been eating the occasional marshmallow from the trial bags. Handing them out. She has very minor notoriety being the sister of a more famous person, the Bionic Girl. She herself is someone whom was publicly transformed from invalid to who she is today through high levels of technology. Maybe not so much notoriety at /this/ event.

She sits with the other two representatives handing out various swag, with a big spinner wheel and a marshmallow-toss game offered between breakneck speeds of professional eating. You can try to blow the marshmallow through a tube maze at various points. Guess the weight of 4 campfire marshmallows, and try multiple different limited edition flavors.

Of course when the eating rounds happen she's leaning forward and chanting 'Eat! Eat! Eat!' just like everyone else. And clapping and cheering as well. There's laughter and cheer as the woman genuinely enjoys herself. Occasionally she'll start to float a bit above the chair and one of her co-attendees will poke her "Psst, it's happening again." And she'll give a "Oh, right! No floating!" and pushes herself down back to her feet using the table. "I'm a little light on my feet." No no, that's probably not what that means...

Superman has posed:
Slump-shouldered Clark in his ill-fitting suit is the portrait of emasculated office worker: with but a look, those around can understand he failed to stand up on that illustrious stage and thrust his chest out proudly, and that he yearns with all his heart he had the grit, the vigor, the raw power to eat ten hot dogs and a bowl of nachos faster than anyone else.

Alas, this man hardly deserves the word; for what kind of man ends up in the audience, and not standing shoulder-to-shoulder with such luminaries as Larry "The Ox" Buffo, three-time Food King? What sort of man sits pathetically in a chair, nauseated by the consolation prize of free nachos someone gave him when he tapped out earlier? He should be there -- maybe, if he was, he'd even catch the eye of the dazzling Isabel, famous for having the best heat tolerance in the lightning rounds.

"No man at all," Clark sighs, running his hand through his thick, dark hair, smoothing it back away from his face.

"Huh, Clark? You say something?"

"No, I'm just -- aren't they something? I could've been a contender."

"... Go get some marshmallows, man. You're taking that loss way too hard."

Clark lifts his tired eyes as the competition begins in earnest, scanning for the marshmallow booth. He climbs to his feet and lumbers forward with heavy, lead-footed steps as soon as the interim break begins, sagging his way before the marshmallow-marked spokeswoman and her two fellow representatives. "How much for the marshmallows?" He asks, pulling out his wallet. He doesn't make eye contact with anyone, staring at the ground.

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
Watching Clark as he starts to come to her table in earnest Saoirse smiles softly "Oh, no money. It's all free today. We're representatives of Ultra Puff Marshmallows! Are you ready for an adventure? Flavor and otherwise? Your sure to have some fun."

A hand goes over the different bags with 4 campfire giant size marshmallows in different flavors. Strawberry, Smores, Standard, Blueberry, Red Gummy Bear, Creme Brulee, Caramel Delight, and Fruity Wonder.

"You can have any of these flavors you want to try, they are all limited edition flavors with comment cards you can drop off or email in. There's eating..or there's a challenge if your up for an adventure?"

Resting her hands on the table she leans forward "There's the blow-blow-challenge, where you try to use your breath to get the marshmallow through the maze and if your fast enough you win a prize! The wheel of prizes, where you can spin to win. The marshmallow toss where you can toss marshmallows to win a prize. Isn't it all exciting?"

A little lean forward over the table "So what do you think? Do you want to broaden your horizons? Do you want to challenge new flavors? Do you want to spin the wheel of chance? Or do you want to try your hand at throwing or mastering just the right breath technique?"

Superman has posed:
"I could use an adventure," Clark concedes in a defeated voice, his gaze tugged one last and languished time to the stage where the contestants are taking a break. In an upset, Larry went down in the first round, unexpectedly learning he had a stomach bug midway down a Chow Town Chow Down Burger, a best-seller from Chow Town on the second floor. "Downer: Chowned Down Chown Town Chow Down Chowneder Downed," the bespectacled man absently quotes. He blinks sheepishly, turning back around to face Saoirse as she leans over the table. His eyes track over clothes and curves alike in a moment's thoughtless appreciation, before he gets up over all that marshmallow print to see her face. "Erm, sorry," he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "I wasn't listening. Um, did you hear that? Testing a headline. How was it?"

He smiles a lopsided smile, only the left half of his mouth rising, the other never learning what to do with itself. "Gosh, a challenge might be just what I need," he decides with a little fist-shake to pump himself up. "Alright, you've convinced me! I'll give them a try! And, you know what? I'll -- I'll be *daring* today! I'll try all the flavors, too!" He's so earnest that it almost makes it easy to overlook how nasally and pinched his voice.

Almost. He might be built like a linebacker, but there's no doubt he got stuffed in lockers with how awkardly he presents himself.

"Oh, I'm, uh, Clark Kent," he says, offering his hand for a limp shake. "It's nice to meet you."

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
Saoirse own presentation is warm, friendly, bubbly and extroverted. The opposite of the introverted Clark. Genuine and interested it shows in her every word. "That's the spirit!" She claps once. "Would you like me to put the flavors into a bag for you to carry? It's a lot of marshmallow."

Standing back up Saoirse gives a nod. "Okay! Adventure it is! Why don't we try the marshmallow throw first? I warn you, they are big marshies, but they are still pretty light." She puts three bags filled with marshmallows, and points towards cornhole-style boards with holes. "If you can get the bags into the hole, each one gives you a special prize!" The boards are fairly close and it shouldn't be horribly difficult to make the shot.

"Hello Clark! My name is Saoirse Flynn. Don't you write for a newspaper? I have a thing for remembering names in digital print."

Reaching out she holds onto the table with one hand, and the hand with the other so her balance isn't shifted. She's shaken hands and been flung around while she's under anti-gravity before. Embarassing! Yoof!

Superman has posed:
"A bag would be nice, thank you," Clark assents with a few polite nods of his head. When they're presented, he'll sneak out the Smores one and take a bite of it. His whole body shudders and he lets out a pleased sigh, his slump undoing itself incrementally as the campfire goodness radiates through his mouth.

"If sho hood," he praises, speaking around a real voice-obstructing mouthful. Realizing he's speaking with his mouth full he blushes and looks away, rapidly swallowing it down. This leads to him coughing and pounding himself on the chest once, before wiping sweat from his brow and taking a breath. "Alright, maybe a measured dose of adventure," he decides, breathing in and breathing out to calm himself. He turns and begins to pull out the throwable marshmallows, carefully lining up each shot -- look how focused he is, one eye closed, gauging the distance with slight bobs of his hand. The tip of his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth. He throws...

... and misses! No matter. He tries again, and this, too, manages to somehow strike right in between the holes, bouncing off uselessly. Again. Again. Each time, no matter how he struggles, Clark Kent can't manage a single shot.

One might think it's on purpose if they can't see the frustration and defeat etched upon his visage. "I write for wa Haley Prawn Net," he answers, taking the second bite of his big ol' marshmallow mid-sentence to sulk.

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
Saoirse puts the sample bags into a small shopping sack with of course 'Ultra Puff' on the side. The Marshmallow has a toasted sweetness to it with hints of graham cracker flavor bits and a chocolate in the middle.

The two boothmates cheer and 'awww' for Clark, offering advice. "Try it harder. Try floating it a bit, they're light". Saoirse pouts on each miss. Then she gathers the bags. She steps around the table, though she's careful to maintain contact with the table as she's a little slow in her actual movements. She's not too sure of her footing. "Okay. Try a little more hand. She gives an example. Tossing up and the marshmallow bag drops down to the board. She offers Clark the rest of the bags.

When he throws them, she'll use her gravity manipulators to alter the gravity to bend the throw to land into the hole on Clark's throws.

"That's a lot of marshie to try to down in one go. I can't even do that and I eat them all the time." Resting her rump against the table she balls her hands into fists and offers a big smile. "Okay. I believe in you! You can do it! Let's make these really good throws!"

Superman has posed:
Clark swallows. "It's really good," he compliments, little bits of marshmallow clinging to the side of his mouth. He hasn't noticed it's there, and so as he speaks, it's just there, bobbing. "I'll get it this time," he promises as the two booth mates express their pity, As Saoirse navigates around the table her odd movements elicit a look from the man. His brow furrows. "Are you okay, Miss Flynn? If you hurt your foot, you shouldn't put too much pressure on it." It seems he's assumed she has some troublesome injury, rather than the ability to defy gravity itself.

Looking on in concern, he'll eventually turn back to the challenge. This last marshmallow he follows Saoirse's lead, using more hand as instructed. This time -- thanks to her gravity manipulators -- the marshmallow will go in...

... a fact which Clark finds himself sincerely surprised by, given how sure he was the throw was going to miss. He's been sure they'll all miss, in fact.

"I did it!" He cheers, that half-cocked smile widening as he straightens his back and positively glows with joy. "Thank you! Your advice was perfect, all of you." He'll toss a couple more -- one he knows will go in, and one that will narrowly miss without outside interference.

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
There's a soft dismissive wave from Saoirse. "Oh, no no. It's a childhood thing I grew up with. It's not something I really have to worry about pressure on." Living in zero-G is easier, but she's been making a intense effort to live as normal people do. And the fact that this is a event she's doing her best to be 'normal'. There's clapping from Saoirse and her boothmates. "Good for you! You just needed to get that first one! See, you got another!"

Saoirse reaches over to try to wipe the marshmallow away with a finger "Let me get that for you. You have a little something. So you get two prizes. You can choose two from the following: Graham Crackers, pre-toasted marshmallow, or toasted-flavor chocolate minibar?"

Superman has posed:
There's some irony in all of this that Clark can't help but contemplate: his reward for eating too much in the preliminary round and getting sick... is to come and win free Ultra Puff brand food. The future of his stomach concerns him enough that his thoughts turn introspective and his focus falters, letting Saoirse reach over to caress his face with her finger. Once she makes contact, the big man startles and leans back, letting out a surprised squeak and then staring up once more past Saoirse's marshmallow-marked body to peer at her face. "Um," he stammers, embarrassed, until she speaks and he sees the marshmallow on her finger. "Oh, I had... oh! Thank you, Miss Flynn, erm. I... hadn't noticed." Color floods the man's chiseled cheeks until he stares down at the table and pretends he doesn't exist. He wilts like a flower. Has he had that on his face the whole time? "I'll have the, uh, the chocolate minibar," he blurts, refocusing his attention on Saoirse to be polite. "So. Miss Flynn. Have you always loved marshmallows?"

He doesn't even know if she likes marshmallows.

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
There's a smile from the bubbly blonde and she leans against the table to sit against it once more. "It's okay. I'm a frequent enjoyer of Marshmallows and I've had a marshie or two and not realized it in my day." There's a soft understanding smile.

"You get to choose one more, you got two! Let's see. So this one is a fun one, I hope you brought your lungs!" She pulls over from the table what looks like a hampster tube going in different directions with different connecting points. She pops in a mashmallow and closes it. There's straw sections on all the corners. "You blow the jumbo marshmallow through the maze, and if you can get it through to the open end you win the prize you didn't get! Exciting! Don't worry, we change the straws out between people."

A subtle tilt of her head "Why yes, as a child I didn't do very well. I was very sick, but I remember being able to chew marshmallows and it was a treat that always made me happy. So I enjoyed them from as far back as I can remember. They have always brought me some happiness and relief even in the most difficult times. Did you ever get to put together a smores at a campfire? I got to much later in life than most, but I imagine camptime fun with family and friends must have been quite fun. It brings back fond memories for most people."

Superman has posed:
Saoirse's relentless positivity seems to have an effect on Clark. As self-conscious as he is, under the barrage of good vibes his edges soften, he holds himself with a little more dignity, and he finally begins to look her dead in the eye when he speaks. "Well, gosh, I can understand that," he agrees with a nod of his head. "Who doesn't love marshmallows? I think they've got to be one of the most popular foods in the whole world! Chewy, sweet, sticky... well, that last one's not so good, but the others, hey!"

Ending up with sticky fingers and sticky faces is definitely the worst part of the average person's marshmallow experience, but everything besides that is unalloyed goodness. Find the person who doesn't like marshmallows, and you've found the person who has a bone to pick with happiness itself.

Well... maybe not that far. But they are good.

"I'm very glad you're doing better now," Clark says, and out of curiosity he looks the plush girl over once more. Though there's nothing obvious about his actions, this time Clark's super-senses are being utilized, idly piercing her clothing and flesh itself to analyze the body beneath -- tissue, skeleton, bones, blood. Just casually seeing if he can see any lingering signs of illness or disease.

"I did like fires as a kid," he mentions. "Sometimes, Pa would light a bonfire in the fields, when the sun started to set. It's not the same as a camp, exactly, but we'd pull up some lawn chairs and sit back. He'd play his guitar and we'd listen to the radio toasting marshmallows and drinking. Well, Pa would."

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
There is a thoughtful look. "After growing I had many new marshmallow memories that were just as fond. The people you share them with take you on a journey all itself." She puts the 'blow maze' down in front of Clark. For when he's ready for it.

Saoirse is..perhaps confusing. She's mostly nanomachines. There is some human tissue all over her body in random places and organs. She has a small reactor that powers her near her heart. Some organs are modified. She has different magnetic points in her body at her joints primarily. The cells she has are sick with incurable birth defects, but her nanocells take her human ones and convert them into what they view as 'healthy' cells, eliminating the defects. It's all a very slow process. But it's happening actively.

In various places (outlined in her abilities) there are gravity manipulators. Though not particularly large, it's all some kind of hodgepodge blend of super high tech, humanity, healthy and defect. Nothing screams 'weapon'. But it could be quite offputting.

Superman has posed:
Clark Kent is a fantastic actor. This is a necessity when one is hiding a secret identity as world-famous as Superman; the transformation is more than a bad suit, slicked-back hair, and a pair of nebbish glasses. It's in his body language, his nasally voice, his meek lack of eye contact, the humble and self-conscious way he folds in on himself rather than expand. A thousand little things add up to make the Man of Steel into mild-mannered Clark Kent -- and all of them revolve around self-control, a discipline profound enough that he can emphasize some things and diminish others at all moments with perfect accuracy.

But sometimes, what you see is surprising enough that even a Superman's discipline falters. Seeing that the pretty woman you've been interacting with is some form of machine is one of those things -- there's a moment, then, where Clark's expression shifts, and if Saoirse is staring at him in that moment she'll see his face scrunch up and his eyes narrow. It's only a moment, though; with his heightened perception of time and fine muscle control, he processes the sight at super speeds and reinforces his mask, once more seeming the humble and awkward country boy.

"You've come very far from that sick girl," he mentions, and his tone is oddly reassuring. He can see the disease, watch her be altered in real-time on a cellular level; it isn't too hard to put two and two together and realize her cure is also changing her on a fundamental level. "And look at you now, spokeswoman for marshmallows and marshmallow-related products. Aim for the stars so you land on the clouds, yeah?"

He beams, and then scoots the blow maze closer. "I'm pretty proud of my lungs," he admits, lips wrapping the first straw. He blows. This game he's actually pretty good at, just through simple lung strength. He's not sickly himself, just clumsy and uncoordinated, it seems.

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
There's a soft blush and she takes the falter in Clark as not sure about the next task, and nods "It's okay, you can do it! I believe in you!" While he's inspecting she wipes at the marshmallow on her finger with a napkin and tosses it into the recycle.

"Well. My story is a somewhat public one. A story of maybe just because you can, doesn't mean you should. A question of permissions and humanities. Nothing is straightforward. But I kind of am a face of what modern robotics can do. When the question of if they should do is removed from choice."

"Maybe everyone can be a hero even if just for one day. Being a hero doesn't have to mean it's a grand thing. Helping someone that is feeling down can make you a hero. Even if it does require personal sacrifice, it doesn't have to every day."

A bit of a giggle "Actually you can't land on a cloud. I've tried it, they look so fluffy but kind of disappear when your up there, like when in a plane. You try to land on one and you just go through. Just poof, no landing for you."

"Sometimes there's good times, like with your pa around a fire. Sometimes there's bad. But it's important to gain those memories because those are what make us who we are while we are. Like going through a marshmallow maze!"

Saoirse claps as he actually excels at the maze. "Oh! Good for you! Your really good at that! Look at you go Clark!"

Superman has posed:
Clark smiles to himself as Saoirse speaks, listening to her recount her view of heroism and parcels of her history. "That's a real nice way to see the world," he affirms midway, eyeballing the blow maze to get a clear idea of the marshmallow's future directions. "You're right, too. People think there's no hero without super before it anymore -- but all of us have the potential to make someone's life better in a small way. Wake up and commit to doing one kind thing for someone else every day, and before you know it, you've helped hundreds, thousands. Big or small, compassion is what makes a hero -- nothing super about it."

At her girlish giggle over clouds, Clark scratches the back of his neck and laughs. "Aw, really? That's a shame. I guess it makes sense, but man, I always imagined they'd be the fluffiest of beds. Maybe like one of those memory-foam mattresses." He sighs, but this time it's not a shoulder-slumping sigh of tiredness or sorrow, merely a playful bit of disappointment. There will be no cloud pillows and cloud beds in Clark Kent's future, it seems.

"Speaking of marshmallow mazes," he rumbles, taking a deep breath and putting his mouth to the next straw. It takes a bit of focus, but he does push the marshmallow ever-onward. It isn't too long until he makes it to the end. Farm life selects for solid cardiovascular health and lung capacity.

"Whew," he says, catching his breath after. "Alright... I need to pick again, right? How about you surprise me?"

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
Saoirse says, "Mmmmn. Well they if anything are kinda wet. It's like being somewhere near the ocean, and it's a mouthfull of dampness. It gets all hazy. Like when a plane flies through a cloud."

There's clapping "You get the prize you missed out on, now you get the full high end toasted smores. But you get to spin the prize wheel since you completed the challenges!"

Carefully standing back up she moves to the side where there is a large spinner wheel. With things like 'Mystery', 'Smores deluxe', 'Marshmallows for a year', 'Special gift', 'high tech', 'Expo Limited Prize', and 'spin again' as options repeated several times.

"You probably don't need the instruction, but you take the wheel, you spin it. And you win what it lands on. Everyone wins! It's a win-win." There's a smile that never quite leaves her lips. "Your onto the best part, it's the reward! Everyone likes rewards. It's just all good things.""

Superman has posed:
"Maybe it's for the best we don't make beds out of clouds," Clark absentmindedly considers. "The last thing we want is to wake up with a damp a--" He catches himself midsentence and draws the syllable out a conspicuously long time before smacking his lips and trailing off. "... sheets. Damp sheets would be so uncomfortable."

Whew. Nice save, Clark. It's rude to swear in front of a lady.

"Sounds simple enough. Just spin the wheel." Clark reaches out and grasps the wheel, testing its strength and resistance with a few errant shakes of his wrist. Carefully, he gives it the gentlest of spins, and the wheel launches into high-speed motion, a blur of text as the country boy's beefy biceps finally do something useful. The man's got brute force in spades to compensate for that awkward clumsiness -- even his secondhand, wrong-size-suit can't hide the size of the body beneath it completely.

"Around and around and around it goes," he sing-songs. "Where it stops, nobody knows."

It slows, slows, slows, and stops on...

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
"Well I don't know. I don't take sheets up there, but I've been up there in a dress. Unless it's rain clouds though it doesn't really get wet. And by the time you get back down it's dry. Though..most people can't fly. I'm not super-great at it myself. So your experience will vary. I kind of am a nanotechnology person so I can do a thing or two not too many people can do. I don't mean to boast or brag or anything."

There's a softest touch of blush to her cheeks. "Oh here we go!" She says on the spin. "Oh wow, you really put some strength on it." It's really going a while there isn't it? And it lands on...the Tech option! "Oh! You win one of the really nice prizes!" One of the boothmates puts a small-ish box on the table. It's a Ultra-puff branded swag item. A USB or AA powered Marshmallow roaster with an optional solar powered battery and small array to use in addition!

"You see, this is a high tech USB powered portable marshmallow roaster. You can use it to heat up, and hold it out on the included sewers, and it'll roast your marshmallows, so you can have anytime smores anywhere! You can also use it to make individual fondues with the metal included tinypot, melting small individual size bars and other flavors. So now you are set with marshmallows of all colors and flavors, a fancy smores, and the smore kit. It sounds to me like your ready for a flavor adventure!"

Superman has posed:
Clark's gaze once more roams up and down Saoirse as she speaks of nanotechnology. What a marvel of modern technology, truly; on the surface she is a flawless representative of humanity, soft and feminine and lovely -- yet look a little deeper, the way only someone like Clark can, and she's a storm of swirling machines and cancerous cells, each locked in a war the latter loses bit by bit. "To be fair, being 'not super great' at flying puts you somewhere in the ninety-nine point ninth percentile of humanity," the reporter reminds. "And with time and practice, I'm sure you'll end up in that ninety-nine point nine-nine percentile." He grins and winks and then looks back to the spinning wheel. He put a bit too much strength into it, it seems -- holding back is an art more than a science, but at least the big ox didn't go and break anything. "Wow, you guys put grease on this or something?" He asks, laughing awkwardly. "Guess all those days at the gym are finally paying off. You know, there's this new machine, you wrap these bands around your waist and..."

He trails on as the wheel slows and finally comes to a grinding halt upon his prize, which he takes from the excited and softly-blushing young woman. "It's a dream come true," he marvels, looking over the marshmallow roaster. "Move over, Superman. Who needs heat vision when you've got this?" Clark bears it aloft atop his massive palm and proudly shows the world the might of the USB-powered portable roaster. "I'll be responsible with this new power," he pledges. "And I vow to bring peace and prosperity to the world on my flavor adventure."

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
There's a thoughtful look as she openly whispers "Oh, I guess that's true. Because people can't really fly or anything. Not without a plane at least. Or a parachute." There's a quizzical look at the wheel "Well I suppose they WD40 it regularly at corporate. So that's possible.."

"Oh that's right, Superman has the heat vision thing. I went to school with someone with heat powers. Her name was Sierra. I snuck into her dorm one day from the window with a bag a marshmallows and she toasted them and we ate them. We did that quite a bit, it was a lot of fun. She went down to Mexico though. Though I imagine it would be hard to control that heat vision. It looks so strong. It's like air frying, you have to get used to how you cook things. Like 30 minutes at 350 degrees, .4 seconds at a gajabillion degrees. That kind of thing."

Her smile falters a bit as she has a thought about heat lasers. There's a uncomfortable memory there. Though she covers it up with a big smile and does a little dance, hips swaying and hands and arms above her head. "Your a big winner! Yay! You made it through everything!" Stopping she brings down the hands to clap in front of her. "Good for you! I'm very proud of you. You did it! You should feel a fine sense of accomplishment. And maybe a little high blood sugar to come. Oh, if your bothered by such things make sure to consume responsibly."

Superman has posed:
"That darn WD40," Clark says with a chuckle, snapping his fingers with a little pump of the arm. It's such a folksy gesture for a moment he appears plucked from some fifties sitcom -- the doddering father in a tired suit with country charm. "Oh, I heard he can control how hot it is," he says as the woman muses. "But who knows? It'd be pretty great, though -- imagine if you could just stare real hard at some litter and poof, it's gone! Or if your coffee gets cold, you could warm up the thermos! You think he ever checks himself out in a mirror and accidentally burns himself? Hah, imagine that, Superman setting his shirt on fire."

Surely that's never happened. Superman is far too amazing to have ever accidentally ignited his or someone else's clothing. Clark Kent, on the other hand... well, puberty is a difficult time for many boys, full of memories dutifully and willfully forgotten.

Clark's eyes flit toward Saoirse's faltering smile -- and, if being perfectly frank, the way her hips and other curves sway during the dance. He stretches out an arm, then, like some first-date teen 'sneakily' putting his arm around a date's shoulder, reaches down and gives the woman a reassuring patpat. In his hand is one of the marshmallows he'd won, torn in half moments prior. "Let's stay on the safe side and split this one," he says, as if she's doing him a favor by taking the gift he offers. "I'd hate to learn I have diabetes eating marshmallows."

He definitely noticed that moment's discomfort. But marshmallows make people feel better, right?

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
Saoirse gets a rather curious look. "You really think so? He seems pretty sure of himself. Then again doesn't he have a place where he goes to be alone? He probably has extra shirts there. Though I guess noone really knows but him. I'm just a little scared around things like heat lasers. I kind of got burned a while ago and things got all jumbled up in my head and there's lots of things I forgot, like how to walk and how to talk. I had to learn those things again. I'm not really supposed to talk about the injury. Besides, it's okay, I'm all better now!"

Considering Superman's access if he wanted to look into the whole affair he could probably gain it. Softly classified, her parents - turned into nano-people, stole a rocket, disabled her sister, and tried to explode nanomachines over Africa to infect people with them. She used broken equipment to fire a malfunctioning space laser to stop them, at the cost of essentially destroying her head and an arm. She had died for a short time. Her body rebuilt but a jumble remained behind.

Shaking off the unpleasant thoughts Saoirse smiles and takes the half marshmallow. "Well then, marshies it is!" She looks to Clark as something occurs to her "You know this stuff about the superheroes and things. How come your covering a eating contest? I mean I'd rather read about that, but people like my sister, she's the Bionic Girl, they do important things. Though she gets kind of grouchy about it. Maybe Superman has his bad days too. There's not always a good choice available, sometimes you have to choose the..uh. Less gooder of the choices. And that can weigh on someone like that. I know it does on Michelle. You know - that's the story I would like to read. How someone like Superman copes with the harder times, failures. How he manages the stress. People like to write about him being larger than life. But he's a man. And all people, if they are man or non-man. They have to cope with the realities around them. I think that would be a more interesting article."

Superman has posed:
Clark nods sympathetically as Saoirse reminisces about her old wounds. "You've done a great job at learning it all again," he tells her. "Though it's a little weird you didn't notice we've been speaking Spanish this entire time." His tone adopts a certain shit-eating grin quality, a little bit of humor injected into an otherwise heavy moment. "And you don't let a bad day define you. That's what really matters -- we should focus on the good times, not the bad."

He draws his hand away from her shoulder now, the consoling gesture over. He very well may look into it later, and learn the sordid details of the woman's past -- between the Justice League, Batman, and the Fortress of Solitude's own computer systems, it's rare that most things can stay secret from him for long. Only the most privileged of secrets are truly beyond him... but then again, he was never the brains of the operation, anyway.

"I've written stories on superheroes before," he answers, biting his marshmallow, chewing, and swallowing. His eyes linger on her. "On Superman, or Batman, or Wonder Woman -- the whole Justice League, really. I've got an article on Tony Stark's newest project in education in last Friday's paper. But the whole world can see them. I'm not saying their actions aren't worthy of praise, but I do think the world puts too much focus on them. They want lurid stories, explosive scoops. You'd be amazed at how often I've gotten mail from gossip rags and Paparazzi after publishing an interview with Superman -- wanting to know who he's dating, if he's married, what bad habits does he have."

He blows some air out irritably. "I think he's just a guy with free time and a good heart. Not every story needs to be about him. These local events, people having good times, smiling -- I think you've got a face pretty enough to be front-page material, same as any Superman story. It's important to remember the regular people. That's what people like Superman are trying to protect."

At her mention of more human-sided Superman stories, he glances away. "Mm. You know, that could be a good idea...trick is finding a superhero who wants to discuss those things."

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
There's a shocked look on her face and a gasp "We have???" She looks to the people from Ultra Puff who shake their head. A realization comes over her and she looks over at Clark "Hey! I don't think that's true!" A puffing out of her cheeks a moment as she pouts.

"It wasn't quite easy but my sister was there through a lot of it. It wasn't a particular easy life before my enhancements. It wasn't a negative life, but it was also a much different life. Being modified - that wasn't something that was my decision. It changed a lot of things. I should be able to learn things, and I can pretty well. But I also forget things sometimes. I'm not a very good smart robot. Smart thing? Is that what they call them?"

"I've been on TV before. Growing up. And talking for the company that helped sponsor my way of life, National Robotics. It is hard to open up sometimes about your every day, and when your vulnerable. I can understand not sharing that. It can be frightening, or scary to open up. There's a vulnerability that comes with the openness."

There's a soften pink to her cheeks at the complement and she sits down on the table, kicking her feet back and forth a bit. "I'm in college now. I work hard but it's not always easy to get through. I don't get the best grades. Math though. Thbbbt. I've got that. But anything other than math. Mmmmn. I'm not sure what I'll be. I haven't quite decided. I have a year of general courses done at the community college. I wonder if the Stark thing might be something that makes learning easier? Though I have my own learning disabilities really. Good at math and computery things. Not so good at the things you really have to think through. And I kind of panic on tests sometimes."

Superman has posed:
Another laugh follows as the Ultra Puff spokeswoman puffs her own cheeks out. "You kinda look like a marshmallow when you do that," he observes, eyes twinkling from the tease. "Uh, not in a bad way. But you're very white and puffy, like -- not like swollen-puffy, I don't mean fat, I mean your cheeks, your cheeks are fat -- puffy, when you..."

He stammers over his words, his attempt to be a smooth, flirtatious man a stumbling disaster fit only to leave rubble in its wake. His hand grasps the back of his neck and he kneads the thick muscle there in embarrassment. His head bows, his eyes dropping to the ground, and his toe scuffing the floor.

"I, uh, sorry, I'm not so good with banter," he lamely confesses. "Maybe I'd be better off with a bit of robot in me, too. Or at least a computer in my head that can detect when I'm making a fool of myself and zip my lips." His hand lifts and he pantomimes zipping up his mouth, pinching the air and pulling it to the side before his mouth. "Gosh, I can't make it one conversation with a woman without goofing up, I can't imagine being on TV. There's a reason I stick to writing articles -- I'm no good on camera, I get self-conscious. It's impressive that you're so good at it. Doesn't it bother you, imagining all those eyes crawling over you all around the world? When I'm stared at, it ends up feeling like hands moving up and down me." He shudders a little.

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
Saoirse blinks with a wide-eyed doe look. "I do? I hope there's not any truth to there being you are what you eat. Because I've eaten a whole lot of marshmallows. A whole lot. And not just today either." She looks down at herself "Well I'm not really thin but I'm okay with that. I like the body that I've grown into. I think everyone should be comfortable with the body they have. You should love your body because it's going to be with you, so you should learn to get along really well with it."

Her gaze turns back to Clark as she watches him curiously. "I'm not very good at it either really. And well you shouldn't wish to be robotic. My body has transformed. Kind of differently. My body's main goals were to maintain humanity as best it could, and make me healthier as a human. It's a different kind of Nanotech design that the little machines decided on their own. They made their own decisions and didn't accept anyone else's input. So they take in their own account of what is humanity and rebuilt me according to that. Sometimes they listen to me, sometimes they dont. But those little nanos do have a force of will. They don't like to do anything other than body stuff, they leave the thinking and action to me. It's adaptive, and not something that can quite be replicated. It's a nano machine's interpretation of what a Saoirse is."

"I never thought of it like that. I could see that feeling being creepy or scary. I just talk to people while they are there. My story is kind of filled with some things of questionability, but those are things I'm always steered away from. There's something that is a good fit for everyone though. I'm not quite sure what my best fits are. But it sounds like you've found something that suits you well? And that's good!"

Superman has posed:
"You have nothing to worry about with how you look," Clark remarks, glancing back to Saoirse once she looks down at herself. "I promise, you're very beautiful -- you've got that pin-up model look. The sort of girl they'd paint on the sides of airplanes during a war." This is a polite way of saying she has luscious curves, ala the bombastic style of such painted beauties -- and, indeed, she'd fit just fine amidst such illustrious company. "Self-love is important, but it helps when you do, in fact, look really good." Clark's self-consciousness is an inconsistent thing; if he feels like he's stumbled over his words, he becomes keenly awkward, but at other times he has no problem praising Saoirse right to her face. It seems to be a mental thing: if he believes he's being awkward, his mind makes it awkward, and his anxiety spikes.

"I think we've all faced situations where our bodies didn't quite work like we thought they should," he muses, turning and gazing toward the speed-eaters on the stage. The break's been about half an hour, and it seems liable to end soon, as the contestants have begun to return from their stomach-settling activities and are taking their seats once more. There are less of them now. "How much input do any of us have, really? We want to be taller, but we're not. We wish we were handsomer, but we're not. Puberty starts and our body decides now we have acne, or we push into our twenties and now our brains decide we're schizophrenic. There's always a dispute between what we think about our identity and what our identity actually is -- and it's just something we have to cope with, every one of us. We have to reconcile our self-image with our image."

He takes a moment to breathe, once more looking the woman over. "I suppose, what I'm saying is -- I don't think you're robotic at all, Saoirse. You're not a smart robot and you're not a dumb robot. You're human, no better or worse than any other." He smiles that lopsided smile at her. "Seems like everything's about to pick back up, so I really should get back to work. It does suit me, you know: I like writing. Bringing attention to the joy in life."

He places his hands to the small of his back and leans back stretching. "I feel rejuvenated, and it's all thanks to you. If we meet again, I'll treat you to a meal, alright? My thanks for all the marshmallows and marshmallow memorabilia."

Saoirse Flynn has posed:
"I've heard that before. But it's not always that easy to believe. Sometimes they have me put on different outfits for interviews and things, mostly pictures to go along with an article because otherwise I'd just wear leggings or jeans most the time. They are super duper comfy. I have curves, they are the curves my body decided I should have. Some people can reshape their body with diet and exercise. This is for the most part the body I will always have. I mean I like it, I'm okay with it. But I'll have it for a very long time." Well on into infinity likely.

"The hardest thing to do is say to yourself I'm okay with how I look, or even harder - I like my look. My body. But when you open yourself to it the stress can help melt away. This is me. This is who I am, my body with it's nicer parts, and imperfections and all. And I'm okay with that. It's so hard for anyone to say it."

"I didnt have quite the same puberty experience as most. It was a rather difficult time in some ways, and rather intense and adventuresome in others." There's a tilt of her head "My sister was infused with military-grade nanotechnology. I was the non-military applications. Though. I guess that's a different story for a different time." There's a smile "Noone will give me a labelmaker anymore because I label everything. I have my issues too. Just like her, and everyone else in the world. But. Maybe. Some way, some how. My ordeal, and that of my sisters can help some people sometime down the road. Robotics for everyone. Nanotechnology for everyone - as long as it's a choice, it's their choice. But until that time can arrive the technology really can't be for public use. We aren't at that place in time or history yet. But maybe someday I hope."

Saoirse offers a larger bag to put everything in, starting to float about an inch above the table before pulling herself down to it with a bit of a yank. "Here you go, this should help. Make sure to cover those eaters, big story!" She keeps th smile on her face. "Oh! I'm good at eating! It's one of the things I like to do, and I'm good at! I'd like that!" A wave with the hand not keeping her down. "Bye!"