Clark merely gave him a bashful, if perhaps a bit rueful, smile -- that aw, shucks, Kansas Boy shining through. "I got thick skin," he replied and left it at that. Still, he was sure it was enough to pique most people's interest. The idea that he was at all special was both odd and unnerving. Mostly because he lived, in fear, that scientists would storm into his farmhouse with the aid of the government and they'd experiment on him. He supposed he still had those fears. Even if bullets bounced off him.
He was surprised with how forthcoming the older man was about his personal life. Intellectually, he knew that most of the people here were -- no doubt -- heroes or people of merit. At least based on the cursory information he'd been given by Peter. But he didn't need to be Batman to know that making assumptions on the flimsiest of evidence. So, he settled on a half truth. "I have a farm." He glanced around him, though, and quickly changed the subject as he floated into the air. "So, is there a welcome center or something?"