“So, how does it look, Clark?”
“You look beautiful. But then you always look beautiful.”
“No, how does it *really* look? Be honest with me, Clark. None of this telling me I'll always look beautiful to you because you don't want to hurt my feelings. Is this a disaster on the scale of cutting all my head off and dyeing my scalp purple, or is it just a bad hair day? And if it's somewhere in between just how bad is it? You know what, if I call now I can probably get another appointment to have it fixed up - You're hesitating, Clark. Why are you hesitating?”
“Honestly, Lois? Because your hair doesn't look one bit different to me than when you walked out of here two hours, and probably a hundred bucks, ago.”
“Men!”
(Wonder how many times she has been asking him? Bad hair day, indeed....)
Great to see you here again, not all that long after you posted another beuatiful fic on these boards, Wendy!
Ann
