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Summary
"Good luck," Clark says, awkward and stiff as he walks away. Then, unsure why, as if his tongue worked faster than his brain and he had no sense of self preservation, he says, "You looked nice… uh, the other night—at the gala, I mean. I liked the leather."
Or, the one where Lex wears all leather to the Met Gala, Clark sees it and starts having weird realizations about himself.