The first time Clark came to the mansion, he stood there for a while, hands in his pockets, out of his farm boy element and staring openly at everything around him. It was refreshing; most people who came tried to pretend they were used to such surroundings. The first time Lana came to the mansion, she looked as though she might just take off like a startled rabbit at any second. That was also refreshing; most people tried to pretend they weren't intimidated by a building that was clearly intended to be far more intimidating than comfortable. The first time Pete came to the mansion, he hung back, folding his arms across his chest and shifting from one foot to another, obviously hating the fact that he was there and eager for the chance to leave. That...well, that was a lot more familiar.

I remember the first time you came, bursting through the door as if you lived there and hardly sparing a glance around. Nothing ingratiating, nothing respectful. It was disconcerting; it brought my guard up. You were the one to watch of the group—you more than your cautious friend Pete, or your mysterious friend Clark, and certainly more than your gentle friend Lana. They all hated me, or trusted me, or respected me. From the second you walked into the door, you were a threat. It was as if you were taking over the space without even having to try. No matter how much you would come to respect me, or trust me, or even hate me, I could see that at the core you were concerned about truth, and that you wouldn't back down in front of power or prestige. It's what made you dangerous. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt vulnerable. I could hide anything I wanted to from Clark, Lana, and Pete, but not from you.

So the walls went up. I spoke harshly to you. I belittled you. I showed you my less attractive sides, the truer self I usually kept hidden behind a façade of calculating congeniality. I saw you falter, but stand your ground.

That scared me more than anything.

Because I know myself more than you ever could, even with all your reporting skills and journalistic instincts. I know that if you got close to me, you'd begin to find out the things about me that no one else knows. I know that if you knew the half of them, you'd never speak to me again. And I know I don't want that to happen.

Better if you never speak to me in the first place.