MY VOICE
Lex Luthor had an irritating voice. That was the first thing Clark observed about him, above all things.
It was a strange thing to judge someone by, certainly, but something about it put Clark off from the instant the man opened his mouth to inhale and let loose a stream of utter nonsense. Hasty, breathy, pitchy, and wrapped up in cloak of insincerity and put-upon airheadedness, Lex Luthor had rubbed Clark the wrong way.
If he weren't being paid to write about what he was saying, Clark would have certainly tuned him out.
As it was, he turned on his recorder, and took notes; though he had an excellent memory, it helped sometimes to have what he remembered be recorded and concrete. You couldn't justify an exact quote without a recording after all. Lois had flayed him alive the first time he did that.
Listening with half an ear, Clark quietly praised when Luthor finished, confused, but weary. Now...now he could do what he came here to do.