She was there to discuss the books and overheard them.

"So, I'll just be ... taking my stuff."

"That's your Warrior Angel."

"No, it's yours."

"I bought it for you."

"It's a collector's, Lex."

"Take the damn thing, Clark. And there's some of your clothes in my closet."

"Yeah ... okay."

"What are you waiting for? Get out."

"Lex, can't we--"

"Go, Clark." Cold. harsh. Uncaring.

"You're such a bastard," whispered, barely audible.

He passed her in the hallway, didn't stop.

"Yeah ... remember that." Lex's words, laced with pain.

He looked up, eyes red.

"Lana. Come in."

[end]