Oh, so he was a jokester. Well, he supposed it was better than someone who was sobbing or angrily fighting to be dropped. Those had always been awkward encounters. Still, the more the man talked--the more Clark realized he seemed to recognize him. Or, even more confusing, knew him. He tilted his head as he touched ground, loosening his grip to allow the man to slip out of his arms carefully and back onto the ground.
He tilted his head, a bit, in that patented Confused but damn Charming way of his and asked: "I'm sorry. Do we know each other?" He chuckled, plastering on that sparkling smile, the one that told people a) everything was going to be fine and b) aw, shucks, ma'am, I just want to help. If it were on anyone else, it would seem disingenuous. But Clark? Clark meant it through and through. "You clearly know me," he began, "which I suppose is a bit of a relief after being stuck in a place no one seems to." He let out a chuckle, placing his hands on his hips.