...that is, actually, a somewhat charming way of saying that he does in fact read everything that mentions his name. "Then I guess you haven't missed much. And I can't imagine you missed that I've never gotten a one-on-one interview with you - you've always been a busy man, and my talents are not... widely recognized."

He raises one eyebrow and curls a corner of his lips in a way that manages to unambiguously convey that he is thinking impure thoughts about that statement.

Tintin manages to unambiguously convey that he is unimpressed. Something about the way he's pursing his lips like there's a small freshwater amphibian in his mouth.

"So, unless you had plans that you really don't want to postpone, I was wondering if we might pass the time with a chat, on the record. If I leave here alive it'd be a feather in my cap, it'd get out a message very neatly, and you seem like the kind of person who likes the back-and-forth."

"You're ballsy, I'll give you that. Want anything to eat or drink?"

And he disappears before hearing the answer but he's Superman so he'll obviously still be able to hear the answer.

"...you know, I've always wanted to try caviar? Just to see if there's anything to it. If that's not on offer, feel free to surprise me."

It's most certainly on offer; he returns momentarily to relocate Tintin to a smaller sitting room with nice sofas and a center table. He's served a platter of cold cuts and cheeses as well as some sushi and, yes, caviar, plus toast, soy sauce, nori, and crackers. There's also an open bottle of Riesling and two glasses already served waiting for him there.

Tintin gazes upon the platter with undisguised delight, mingled with very slight confusion.

"- I have a question not entirely unrelated to that interview you haven't yet confirmed or denied, and this makes it a touch awkward to ask either on or off the record."

"Oh I really do not give a fuck about the record. Ask away." Zher takes his seat and serves himself some caviar on toast.

Tintin clicks a button on a small recording device he was not holding a moment ago and speaks the current date aloud. "Interview with Evil Zher-El. May be renamed if Evil Zher-El finds nickname prejudicial, but it seems good to specify somehow, and even odds he thinks it's funny. He states, for the record, that he 'really does not give a fuck about the record'."

He tries a piece of sushi first. "Good lord. My question was previously 'are you secretly a sushi chef', but it has become obvious that the answer is yes, and so my question becomes: How long have you been waiting for the opportunity to surprise someone with your skills as a sushi chef?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "I'd rather go with Evil Zher, it rolls off the tongue more easily. Or just Evil Superman, God knows Luthor has been talking about the subject a lot. And while you may perhaps be the cutest boy I've had over for dinner you are most certainly not the first one I've made sushi for. Is the ice sufficiently broken now, can we get to the more interesting parts?"

"Ah, you do know my job. Not unexpected for a man with so many interviews under his belt, but worth checking. Naturally we can get to the good parts; would you prefer to start with what caused this precipitous shift, from the pure-hearted Man of Steel to, well, Evil Superman? I know that when someone has an epiphany, it is often at the front of their mind."

"Oh it was a ray gun of some kind. Pretty sure it was Luthor's fault."

"A ray gun."

"A ray gun! That'll teach me to assume I'm immune to anything that doesn't have any kinds of kryptonite in it."

"I... don't know that I follow fully. You were struck by a ray gun, which... caused you to lose your appreciation for the value of human life? You are not, for instance, ongoingly under the control of some party who may or may not be currently hiding in her bunker on the Moon?"

"I don't know if it did something that makes sense in terms of, like, neurology, but the practical effect is that I don't care about," vague handwave, "people in the abstract, anymore."

"...I'm sorry that happened to him," Tintin says quietly. "And... I'm sorry that it happened to you."

Zher laughs a very genuine-sounding laugh. "Oh, chin up, I'm sure the Justice League will figure out how to bring him back sooner or later."

"Perhaps so. And then I'll be sorry that happened to you, and sorry that it happened to him. I'm sure it hasn't escaped you that this is a complicated situation!"

He waves a hand vaguely again. "Complicated's with the other guy. I am just going to have fun until Batman figures out how to undo it."

"Fun... I can see that. What does the New Man of Steel do for fun? You seemed to enjoy fighting your erstwhile compatriots... and, mostly irrelevantly, me... but I don't imagine you'll find a similar challenge elsewhere on Earth."

He pauses for a moment, his expression going slightly more serious, then says, "Sparring with them was fun. Actually hurting them... less so."

"But I also like inadvisable sex, fighting things that I want to hurt, and travelling the cosmos at speeds that physics has to look the other way to allow."

"...ah. You do not care about people in the abstract, but the League are very specific, no? Hence why you slew me so readily, but did not do so to Batman... and yet this principle does not extend to hurting them by being evil?"

"I feel like there's some kind of point someone more eloquent than me can make here about how being something isn't a thing that has a right to hurt other people which harkens back to gay rights or whatever, you wanna write that bit for me and pretend I said it?"