Chap? Catching that, Jor-El’s mouth curled up into a nearly there smirk. It wasn’t everyday, or ever to be more precise, that somebody called him that. Being confronted and greeted, he was used to being addressed as “Sir” or “Mr.”, sometimes in a sentence similar to the following: “I’m so sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to fall into you and “Hey, Mr.…” and “Would you give me the time, Sir?” Or some other similar construction of response, chosen if only because when Jor-El’s eyes met yours, he gave the impression that a father gave, the look that a professor shot you, the gleam that you caught in the eyes of law enforcement as they threw you onto the ground.
No matter, in times like this, he didn’t intentionally try to come across as intimidating. His distinct touch of new-found amusement softened his authoritative demeanor as best as it could. Jor-El’s gaze swept over him once. Not catching sight of anything that would put his health in danger, he was all together, satisfied.
“You’ll want to keep an eye out next time, less you have a repeat of this incident.” His tone was soft, good-natured and Jor-El took the hand offered to him in a short but firm shake. “It’s a pleasure, Doctor. And I do just fine, thank you.”
He wasn’t human and neither was his new acquaintance. There wasn’t a need to ask. He knew. “I’m Jor-El.” His name hinted at what he was not. It wasn’t a title found anywhere else, not with anybody but him.