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Dreamer is cleaning bloodstains out of Shay's ~~boat~~ fort.

It's taking a lot longer than she thought.

Certainly long enough that she forgot why she started in the first place, but hey. Not like she has anything better to do.

Slosh. Clank. Scrubscrubscrub. Slosh.

This is oddly restful.

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"Which is why it's cute!"

Dreamer has an odd view of cuteness.

Apparently.

"Right." Clark squints up at her. "It's not exactly normal, you know?"

"You're talking about normality to a girl who thinks cleaning up bloodstains is a relaxing, familiar activity," she points out. "I'm just sayin'."

"I suppose asking for some measure of pretense would be out of the question?"

"You're living in a house with a girl who can turn into a dragon, a guy who can teleport, somebody who smells really bad - I'm never poking my head in that guest room again, honestly - and a dead chick," she responds. "Who're you going to stuff in a box to get your normality back? 'Cause if it's Shay, I'm pretty sure the box'll be ineffective. And if it's me, I'm so going to bust out of there and kick your ass."

Dreamer grins. Brightly.

"Somehow I doubt that," he replies, dryly. "But sooner or later, you're all going to have to realize that being this different is dangerous and if you think you're just going to be able to waltz out of any predicament you might get yourselves into, you're seriously underestimating some of the people around here."

"It was a joke, you dork. You're twice my size, what the fuck am I going to do to you?"

Okay, exaggeration, but still.

As for the second part... Dreamer looks worried for a moment, then shakes her head. "I doubt there's much around here that can really fuck with me, but-- thanks for your concern, I guess. I just prefer not to bullshit people."

"Yeah, and I really took you seriously there."

Clark sighs. "Sometimes lying is the best way to survive. The truth doesn't always set you free. Trust me."

Sigh.

"Tell that to somebody for whom survival is a concern," she says gently.

"If you can be hurt, it should be a concern."

"I'd show you my badge, but you wouldn't get it. Look. Dead chick, all right? My priorities are a little different."

He just looks up at her.

"Then how about you try having some concern for the rest of us whose priorities are just a little more mundane."

"Livelings are fucking bent."

Dreamer sighs.

"What the fucking hell are you afraid of? Nobody's going to tie you to a post and rip your guts out because you've got a motherfucking landlocked cargo liner in your backyard. Relax."

"You'd be surprised," Clark replies, utterly serious. "If it'll attract attention to the house, it'll attract attention to the residents. I realize some of you may not give a damn about what happens to yourselves, but there are those of us who do and I'd rather not someone start prying into who I am and what I do. Besides," he eyes the ship up and down, "if I really wanted it gone, it would be. I just don't think we need anything else."

With a few thousand more years of being dead under her belt, Dreamer would probably contest this.

As is... she hesitates.

"Fine," she says at last. "I'll give it a shot."

It makes her uncomfortable, but so does the thought of unintentionally bringing harm on the rest of the Cooper household. Never mind that she hasn't even met them all yet.

"Thank you. Just, you know, enjoy the fact you have a boat in Kansas, okay?"

"Yeah."

This elicits a smile, because hell. A boat. In Kansas. Who'd've thought?

Certainly not Clark.

"So yeah. Have fun, I guess."

"Yeah," she repeats.

And tries not to think uncharitable things like 'spoilsport'.

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