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[ After this. ]

A couple of extremes waltz arm and arm into Smallville: an extremely tall man, and an extremely curvaceous woman. To the naked human eye they aren't much more than that, but to those who can see past glamors and illusions can tell they're far more expansive than they seem.

And those who can read minds might glean that the both of them are on a Mission. (Dun dun dunnnn?)

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"You know, I've never actually been to Kansas before," says the man, surveying the landscape with eyes that change from grey to blue.

"I've never been to this Kansas before," she replies. "Though I've seen it on television before."

"Television," he scoffs.

Pfft.

Movies > television.

"Oh, that's right. You're a film snob."

He beams.

"Nothing wrong with that."

"No. But television's not all bad. Look at the news: you don't see men like Edward R. Murrow on the silver screen."

"I don't need to watch the news," he says cheerfully.

"Neither do I, but I like how humans spin it sometimes. And sometimes I don't."

"You work in politics, Ge, of course that's entertaining to you."

"It's not always entertaining."

"Whatever."

He smirks at her.

"I could work in politics."

"You should," she says pointedly. "Environmental issues effect you as much as me."

"I know, I know," he mutters.

"What're you going to do now that you've got no one to influence, mm?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Grow a garden?"

"Well, there's a whole farm over there," he says, pointing.

"So I see. Maybe I can corner the organic market."

"Maybe?" he snorts.

"I think the odds are in your favor."

"What do you say? We can start our own mom 'n' pop shop. We'll make a killing."

"That's not a bad idea, actually."

Pause.

"I can't see that guy I said seemed familiar," he frowns. "He must be inside somewhere."

"Well, pick a place and we'll look. We don't have much else to do."

"Most of the people seem to be going in and coming out of that farm," he says, starting in that direction. "At least we'll find someone."

Someone like Doineann, perhaps, who's been following them for the past few minutes in the form of a barely noticeable breeze?

"Well, then," he says, manifesting into his usual human-y form, "who's this pretty lady you've got hanging off your arm?"

She tilts her head. "His wife."

"... this is Doineann," Ouranos says, looking at Gaia apologetically.

"Pleasure to meet you, m'lady," he says with his thick Irish accent.

"Must be good t'be the wife of the sky, eh?"

"Ah, you're the other weatherman around here. He told me about you. I almost though he was talking about himself."

Avoiding the question: y/n? (Y!)

Ouranos rolls his eyes.

"Other?" he glances at Ouranos, one brow raised behind his dark glasses. "Didn't know you could do that too."

There's a not very nice tone in his voice when he says this.

"Oh, he can," she says, her voice something of a rumble (or a purr). "And he's quite territorial."

He shoots Doineann a look that says "yes, I am, so you'd better be damn careful."

"Where are you from, anyway?"

"Another Earth," he says, unfazed by the look, "where my siblings and I control the elements."

Beat.

"I'm the only one of my kind here, though I do have a very lovely little servant. You should meet her, sometime."

"A servant, eh? Does she do any neat tricks, too?"

He thinks about that for a moment.

"... no, but I bet I could teach her some."

Wink!

Eyebrow. "Tee em eye."

"What?"

Ouranos snorts.

"It was... nice to see you again," he says, gently tugging Gaia along. "We've got some business to attend to. I'm sure we'll see you around."

Gaia waves regally at the weatherman, following Ouranos' lead. "Keep the weather sunny and pleasant, will you?"

"Oh," he says with a smirk on his face as they go, "that's not what I do."

And with a gust of wind, he's gone.

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