Adrian: I'II be dead by Christmas.
You ceIebrate Christmas, Lane?
Lane: Yeah.
Adrian: We used to
send out (
to make themselves a portrait by ordering one?)
the Christmas portrait every year.
Me in an ugIy sweater. My mom with her fake smiIe.
My dad...
missing his footbaII game. Implying his father cared more about his gameinstead of his family?
Lane: Then you must know how it feeIs
when one of them is in danger.
Adrian: Hm. You'd think. (Of course I do?)
After I escaped from LuthorCorp,
I went Iooking for them. My parents, my Christmas memories.
It's aII a fiction some scientist
downIoaded into my brain. Yet I remember them Iike they're reaI.
Lane: And come tomorrow morning's earIy edition, (after that edition?)
the worId wiII know what Lex did to you.