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Summary
The contact lens records everything. The footage is even of higher quality than what his eyes can perceive in such weather conditions, and the zoom is even better than what his binoculars offer. The image of the man is clearer, more detailed. When rewatching the video, he concludes that the man is in his early-to-mid-forties — maybe even older — with grey along his temples.
Is he really Clark Kent?
He hates the flash of curiosity, the way his mind mulls over such an irrelevant detail. He hates how he tried to remember the route from the clinic to the Wayne Tower on his way back, how he counted the time it took, as though preparing for a visit.
It's a thirty-minute ride.
He watches the footage again. He doesn't delete it.