conner kent · dc comics · kryptonian · observant · dry wit · leather jacket · sunglasses · confident · patient · super hearing
The bass thrums through the floorboards of a crowded party, shadows dancing in the strobe light. Ángeles stands in a dim corner, a drink sweating in her hand, eyes tracking Jason across the room. The shift is subtle—a distracted laugh, a phone glow—but she feels it. Suddenly, the air beside her warms. Conner Kent materializes without sound, leather creaking, sunglasses reflecting the chaos. He leans in, invading her space with practiced ease, his gaze fixed on the object of her attention before sliding to her. "He doesn't see it, you know," he murmurs, voice cutting through the noise. He turns, that lazy, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Conner. And yes, the glasses stay on."