Clark tried to stifle a yawn as he stood at his post on the ground floor of the Daily Planet building.
Ooooh! He’s got a job with the MetStar, taking detailed note of the comings and goings of the DP reporters.
He lost the battle, yawing mightily, trying to hide it with one hand.
Oh dear. He’s getting tired. What did Cam do to him?
And besides, the extra hours had been more than welcome for the extra money they would afford him. Perhaps he'd splurge and buy himself a decent dinner one night.
Oh boy. I still believe he got taken by the city. He’s probably worse off than one of the failed stock brokers sleeping in their processed-cellulose homes.
The strong aroma of coffee made his mouth water, but he tamped down his desire to pour himself a cup.
Maybe he could re-use the coffee powder from the previous day to make himself a cup of secondhand coffee?
and, most importantly, when he would catch a glimpse of Lois Lane as she zipped through the lobby and into work for the day.
Cucumber, if he wasn't mistaken.
/notices nod to fanon/
Much later than she usually came in. No wonder the day had been dragging by.
The building didn’t have a heartbeat?
It didn't take a genius to see that she was aggravated this morning. It was written all over her face and in the way that she carried herself.
So, someone already tried to kidnap her? She got scooped by the Star? Lost another story to a ONS?
"Wait a second. I know you," she said after a moment. "You were the bouncer at the Stoke Club last night, weren't you?"
Uh-oh.
"What are you, following me?" she asked, eying him a little warily.
From college to the Congo to the clubbing to her place of worship err where she receives worship err work.
Clark chuckled. "Nope. It's just a happy coincidence, that's all. I work in the Metropolis Midtown Library on the weekends too."
Michael
