No, I mean, my feelings for you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone in my life I didn’t know that there were this many feelings to even be had. My emotions, I guess they just, they made me, um, go kind of crazy, I guess.
One of the stranger ongoing stories in the Superman Family of comics involved The Tale of Kryptonite, a series of vignettes narrated by a single piece of Kryptonite which, despite its unwillingness to harm or inconvenience the Man of Steel in any fashion, keeps coming back in different forms. Over the course of Superman vol.1 Nos.176, 177 and 179, the hapless, intelligent Kryptonite rock goes through the Green, Red and Gold incarnations of the deadly mineral. (By the way, it looks like a face because it was a piece of statuary prior to the destruction of Krypton)…
“I’m a boss at sewing and your superhero outfit consists of jeans and a Halloween mask?? I’m making you a real uniform, get over here, let me get your measurements.” (More prompts from this list)
Caroline had seen him on television. Apparently their revered city hero was wearing some pathetic makeshift outfit to fight crime. Whoever his PR person was deserved to be shot.
Caroline was one of the best fashion designers in the city but for some reason she’d been unable to focus on a new Fall line because all she could imagine was capes and masks.
After another restless night, Caroline found herself in her makeshift atelier on Fifth Avenue. Consulting her sketches she began to design another. If only she knew his identity Caroline could fit him with a better ensemble.
She liked to think her obsession with The Hybrid was purely professional but it was difficult not to think about how his muscular arms (although fitted poorly into something resembling a top) would feel around her waist.
She turned on the nearby television, hoping for a much needed distraction but yet there he was poorly dressed again on the top of a nearby building. It was most probably equal parts dangerous and stupid but Caroline found herself making her way to that building.
It wasn’t difficult to spot the scene of the latest crime with police cars assembled, their flashing lights could be seen a mile away. Caroline managed to slip inside undetected, making her way up the elevator.
The scene she happened upon was chaotic to say the least but she couldn’t miss the familiar hero talking with the Police Commissioner. Suddenly she felt intimidated, even if he was clad in jeans and a Halloween mask that he’d probably picked up in the discount bin.
She made her way towards him gingerly, trying to work out just what she was going to say. He was barrelling towards her, no doubt about to make his disappearance before too many people arrived.
“Uh, excuse me?” She offered, albeit feebly.
“The police can help you,” he replied gruffly, barely making eye contact.
“I don’t need help but you do.” The fact he stopped and regarded her curiously meant she had his undivided attention for now.
“Oh really? How is that exactly?”
“I can dress you.”
“In all of the pick up lines I’ve received over the years, that’s one I’ve never heard,” he chuckled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Look buddy,” she growled. “I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever but if you continue running around town dressed like some pathetically half-assed superhero people are going to start doubting your abilities.”
“What’s wrong with this?” He baulked studying his outfit curiously.
“You look like a five year old in a grown man’s body,” she scoffed. “I kind of figured if you were going to take this superhero thing seriously then you might have at least dressed the part.”
“Well, excuse me if I was too busy saving lives to care about my attire, Miss?”
“Forbes, Caroline Forbes.”
“The fashion designer?”
“So now you realise just how qualified I am for the job,” she scowled. “In fact I’ll even give you a discount. Anything to get you out of these clothes.”
“You want to get me out of my clothes?” Even under that cheap mask, Caroline could make out a telling smirk. “The whole superhero thing is about mystery. No one knows my identity.”
“Fine, I’ll let you keep on that cheap mask,” she drawled. “But I’m going to have to get my tape measure.”
“Well, how am I going to get your measurements right?”