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 game
instead 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.

And come tomorrow morning's earIy edition, (after that edition?)
the worId wiII know what Lex did to you.
I think Adrian's comment (You'd think) implies that he probably should have feelings, but he doesn't.

They had a photo made every year, either at a professional studio, or one of their own making.
Thanks, Philip! But what about the other two?