Lex's eyes had adjusted. By the time he heard the door unlock, he could see everything in the cramped apartment. He smiled as he watched her move through the apartment, shedding shoes and a purse. It was a little like the feeling he'd had as a kid, hiding, waiting to jump out and a scare a friend. Almost gleeful.
Of course, they weren't friends. They were as far from friendly as people got nowadays. The cutest pet name she had for him was "snake." He had a few for her. "Nosy bitch" was a bit of a favorite. She walked right past him toward the tiny kitchenette. He smiled again. Losing your edge, Sullivan?
He watched her bend low to open the cabinet with some interest. The skirt slit up the back. If it wasn't so dark, he could see what color panties she wore. When she straightened, he wasn't too disappointed. Probably wore spinster white. She was single again, after all.
His eyes followed her as she groaned and opened the fridge, silhouetted against the light. She'd cut her hair. He'd noticed she'd let it grow with Olsen. He must like his blondes with long hair. He'd moved onto Clark's cousin, after all. Something about those Kents...
"Not even a beer," she hissed. "Not a fucking drop of alcohol in the place."
He smiled. If there ever was a perfect time to reveal himself... "I wouldn't say that."
He leaned back in the chair, dangling the bag from his fingers, watched her stiffen and close the fridge. She didn't jump, though. Good for you, Sullivan.
She faced him slowly, her eyes wary. "Mind telling me what you're doing here, Luthor?"
He smiled. "Just a friendly visit."
"Likely." She flipped on the hanging light above the table.
He winced slightly. "That's bright."
"Oh, I'm sorry." He squinted slightly as she crossed her arms. "I know you prefer skulking around in the dark, but some of us would rather see what you're up to." She tilted her head to the side. "How did you get in?"
He stood, deciding to ignore her snide skulking remark. "As your landlord, I happen to have a key."
She narrowed her eyes and leaned against the fridge. "Jesus. Remind me again why we continue to live here. What do you want?" She looked around. "I mean, I don't see any ransacked drawers and overturned furniture. What gives?"
He chuckled slightly. "Believe it or not, I am just here for a friendly visit." She raised an eyebrow, but was otherwise silent. "A birthday visit." He held out the bag dangling from his right hand. "Happy birthday, Sullivan."
She stared at the long, red bag, but didn't take it. "Gee, thanks. Why don't you run along while I call the bomb squad?"
He placed the bag on the table, holding his smile. "There's one reason I didn't drop it off. Well... that and the fact that something like this really should be delivered in person." He left the bag in the middle of the table and waited.
"You seriously expect me to accept a present from you?" She shook her head. "Why would you even do this? Since when have you been concerned with my birthday? How did you even know it was my..."
"The answer to all questions," he said, cutting her off, "is Lana. She'd programmed your birthday into my PDA. As far as why..." He smiled and sat down again. "You did do me a little favor, cutting off Lana's surveillance."
She smirked. "You knew about that." She threw up her hands and pushed away from the fridge. "Of course you did. You just have your hand in all the pies, don't you, Luthor?" She stepped up to him, towered above him as he was seated. "What I did was not for your sake. It was for Lana. She needs to get clear of you in every way. Maybe then she can come back from..." She shook her head. "Why am I even talking to you?" She picked up the bag and thrust it at him. "Take your stupid present and go."
He held the bag and stood, happy to tower over her again. "Oh, I'm sorry." He tilted his head slightly. "I thought you wanted a drink."
She stepped away, her brows furrowed. "Oh, so it's booze. What's in it, a concoction brewed up in one of your labs? Because I know for a fact you..."
"Christ, Sullivan." He closed his eyes and sighed. The one time he tried to do something genuinely nice... Well, nice enough. It wasn't as if this was completely out of the goodness of his heart. He ripped the bag away and let it drop. He held the bottle up. "This happens to be a blended scotch from Chivas Regal." He held it up, admiring the ornate blue bottle. "Royal Salute. Twenty-one, much like you. It was released in 2003 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation." He caressed it lightly. "It also happens to be worth ten thousand dollars."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Ten thou..." She released a short breath. "And what happens if I drink it?" She tilted her chin upward. "Do I start spilling my deepest darkest secrets or..."
"You know what?" He side stepped her and moved to the kitchenette. "There's only one way to settle this." He moved to the cabinet and took out a small tumbler. Not as nice as what this liquor deserved, but it would do. He opened the bottle, glancing sideways once at her mutinous expression. He poured two fingers and took up the glass. "Here's mud in your eye," he said before downing the glass. He closed his eyes. He'd had better, of course, but it was nice. "Smooth," he breathed. He opened his eyes.
She was looking from him to the empty glass and back again. Her mouth was slightly open and she looked as if she was torn between slapping him and taking the bottle for herself.
He leaned toward her. "Is this where I spill my deepest darkest secrets?"
Her eyes narrowed and she grasped the bottle. "Oh, give me that!" He watched with some surprise as she took the bottle and brought it to her mouth.
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