It’s not like the world is spilling over with clones, is the thing; especially not genetically stable super-powered hybrid clones with– Wait, Tucker thinks, and lifts his head to stare blankly at the poster on his bedroom wall. Well, there’s a lot of posters on all of his bedroom walls, admittedly, but a specific poster on a specific wall. “You’re a genetically stable super-powered hybrid clone,” Tucker says to his poster, still staring at the digitally-rendered face of a teen idol superhero. Superboy continues to grin cockily at him, because he’s a special edition poster and obviously isn’t gonna stop doing that. Tucker, very slowly, reaches for his phone and types something into Bing after all.

Darcy thinks maybe her new intern is a slut. Like–a big one. Big ol’ slut. Both metaphorically and literally, since he's 6’3” of Kansas beefcake and maybe the literal only human being alive who has a build remotely comparable to Thor's. So like, a billion steroids or secretly an alien, Darcy’s assuming.