Bel's voice, as they speak, has the particular cadence of a well-practiced storyteller, and the story isn't an unfamiliar one at all. The details change in the telling, but the bones of it are generally the same. It's like that with a lot of things from their world, Clark has found.

He scans Bel quickly, just to be certain that there isn't any injury he's somehow missed. It's just a brief furrowing of his brow, and then a blink to dismiss what he sees; Bel looks perfectly normal, unharmed. It doesn't make sense.

He doesn't resist as Bel takes his hand, his expression even more perplexed for a moment. There's nothing on his own palm, not even the faintest sensation of blood from Bel's hands smearing onto it.

"There's nothing there, Bel." Clark speaks as calmly as ever, always held carefully in check. "You've got blood all over your uniform. It... You look like you've butchered something. Are you alright?"