* * *

Intervention: Clark

* * *

Of course, life was better now that nobody hunted anybody else with torches and pitchforks and the b-vord was never referred to in its gastronomic aspect, but Otto had to admit that he missed the bad old days sometimes. Things had been so much simpler then.

For example, he had not had to argue with mulish junior reporters about their sex lives from some obscure sense of duty. You'd think Clark would show some consideration, seeing that this was the first time Otto had ever gone in for relationship advice, but trying to tell Clark what to do when his mind was made up was as much use as trying to kill a Luthor with garlic and prayer.

"You didn't want me to date Kyla--"

"She vas a verevolf!"

"So?" said Clark. "You're a vampire."

It was amazing how Clark could have the face of one of the more attractive Ephebian gods and yet still look like a petulant five-year-old. Otto closed his eyes and breathed.

But he'd learnt patience since he'd taken the black ribbon, and the time he spent with Clark had only enforced the lessons.

"I do not go around killing people ven I am feelink indisposed," he pointed out -- in quite a level tone, if he did say so himself.

"She didn't kill people when she was human," Clark protested. "It was just when she turned into a wolf that she couldn't control herself. She couldn't help who she was."

"Do you see this?" said Otto.

"What?"

"This black ribbon here," said Otto. "You know vat it means? It means that I do not drink the b-vord anymore. It means that I sit many hours drinking cocoa and singing songs because -- and this is the important part, Clark -- I haf helped who I vas."

Clark had the grace to look away, but the line of his mouth tightened.

"It's not always that simple," he said.

"Yes, it is," said Otto. “You just haf to make it be."

It was an unfair hit, but Otto wasn't above using whatever weapons he had at hand. Clark's wide green eyes were troubled. He always had a problem with the truth, handling it as if it were something old and infinitely precious. Unfamiliar, but irrefutable.

"Lex doesn't know that," he said.

"No. He doesn't." Otto stared at the boy, willing him to be suddenly enlightened, to realise what a wholly bad idea this infatuation with Lex Luthor was.

It wasn't that Otto disliked Lex. Lex had been a friend even before the Temperance Movement, when the closest thing an average vampire had to a friend was prey that didn't fight too much. Lex was loyal beyond reason to those he thought deserved his loyalty. He probably even meant well, when you dug past the layers of thought and paranoia and ambition.

But the bastard didn't know where to stop any more than Clark did. That was probably what attracted Lex to Clark, come to think of it. It was also the main reason why their joint destiny was almost inevitably going to be shaped like a pear.

See this, Otto urged silently. Understand this fundamental truth. Date a nice, ordinary girl from zer nicer part of Ankh-Morpork and please, just let me get back to my vork untroubled by grand passions and ineluctable tragedies.

But then Clark looked up again, and the determination in his eyes was as pure and focused as the light from a blowtorch. Otto's heart sank.

"I'll teach him," said Clark.

It was like trying to flatten a mountain with a spoon.

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