"I did. I brought two." She gets them out of the first pocket of her bag, there for easy access in case Clark got freaked and started thrashing. Two sets of police-grade handcuffs, none of that fuzzy, lined stuff -- not that she owns that, she just knows a guy.

She hands the cuffs over to April and pulls chalk out of the bag, drawing symbols on the footboard, sketching from a notecard. This method of kryptonite extraction was taught to her from this dude in Tibet who swears by it. It won't work.