Lex waited an extra few seconds to be sure, but it was clear that Superboy had reacted as programmed. Neither Martian, then, had managed to find any hint of the triggers buried in the clone's mind. They might not have even looked. The Light would be pleased to learn that this particular asset wasn't as lost as they had feared.
"Perhaps," he commented to the frozen expression inches away from his face, "this will teach you something about the finer methods of handling people. No? Perhaps not. You do seem to have a certain… fondness… for using your fists. A predictably common shortcoming in anyone with a modicum of superstrength."
Superboy failed to so much as blink. Right. Lex sighed. "At least you are somewhat more willing to listen to reason than Superman, even if you are more hands-on." He took a step back—or tried to. Casting a displeased look down, he frowned at the half-Kryptonian hand clenched solidly around his tie. A couple of experimental tugs showed that neither tie nor fist was going anywhere. How tedious. This was good silk, too.
With a little effort, Lex worked the smaller end of his tie free. The clone's fingertips were firmly closed around the broad strip, and so close to the knot he had precious little room to work. For different reasons entirely Lex was grateful for selecting such a seldom-used road, as he craned his neck and struggled to loosen his tie mainly by touch. This scene might be slightly difficult to explain to anyone who happened by. Speaking of unwanted observers—his gaze slanted across the road to the highly-advanced piece of alien technology Superboy drove around in. His oversized pet fleabag still waited inside, apparently content to remain put as long as its master wasn't screaming in rage. It could watch him as intently as it wanted—from there.
After several more minutes, a muttered invective or two, and one rather painful crack of his skull against the unforgiving surface of Superboy's forehead, Lex finally succeeded in undoing the length of cloth. Moving away, the loose end stretched taut, then slithered from around his neck. Lex huffed a partially relieved, partially exasperated breath of air. He smoothed his lapels, glanced at his watch.
"As interesting as this little father-son outing has been, I really must be going." He rested a hand on the stationary clone's shoulder. "Keep the shields, Superboy. You may not like their origin, but they work. You may need them again." Turning, he climbed into his waiting car.
"Drive." The chauffeur knew better than to comment on anything he might have seen, and silently started the engine. Lex twisted around in his seat as they pulled away. Superboy might as well have been a statue, oblivious to the dwindling light or Lex's departure. A ribbon of dark red cloth fluttering in the wind was the only thing that moved.
A/N: This scene leapt into my head the instant I saw that last minute of Agendas. The only reason Superboy would still be holding Lex's tie was if Lex couldn't get it out of Superboy's hand. And so: this. I hope you enjoyed that visual as much as I did!