![[Linked Image]](http://cosgan.de/images/smilie/froehlich/e010.gif)
/punches RL in the face/
“Ms. Lane,” Wolfe said calmly, resting a hand on her arm, which she shook off. “The other witnesses saw Clyde Barrow shoot Mr. Kent twice in the chest. More than one person said that he was unresponsive when Capone and his men dragged his body out of here.”
Why’s she not telling Wolfe about the bp vest?
“Stop calling Clark a body!”
How about ‘carcass’ or ‘the deceased’?
“Do you know anything about these green bullets that Capone mentioned he had bought to use on Superman?”
Lois stiffened. “He didn’t say they were for Superman. He said the ‘Man in Blue’. He could have been referring to the Chief of Police for all we know. As a cop, you should know not to jump to any conclusions without corroborating evidence.”
Would you know, as an expert on Superman, what substance they could have been made out of and whether they would be harmful to humans?”
Well, they’re *bullets* and likely not those you put into a paintball gun…
“A bullet is a bullet, no matter what it’s made out of and so, of course, it would be harmful to Clark, especially if it pierced his bulletproof vest,” she said.
Yes, they could be armor piercing. Clark could be dead already, his chest shredded by the shards.
He had no idea how long he had been lying in the pile of trash bags Capone’s men had dumped him in when they rolled him out the door of their getaway car. On the bright side, it had been a softer landing than it would’ve been had he struck a wall.
Wouldn’t it be awkward if there had been a broken bottle in one of the trash bags and he had rolled onto it, tearing up his intestines?
Lois probably thought he was dead.
He needed to live to prove her wrong.
She might then kill him just to prove that she’s always right?
Only two more tabs to go.
On the right side.
Ooops?
In one pocket, his hand brushed against something hard and plastic.
Lois’s mobile phone!
Clever author!
Lois wouldn’t be at home. She would’ve gone to the Daily Planet.
/points to above/ She already called it a night, being annoyed and tuckered out after dealing with the police all night long.
“That’s what is written on the street signs.”
Maybe some kids stole them and put them up somewhere else? Actually, that could be interesting—how long does it take for someone to notice and fix the signs? Especially if they started to mix them up in Suicide Slum?
She was in such a rush she only turned two of her five locks.
Huh. One wonders how many criminals will have broken in by the time she returns. After all, her apartment isn’t exactly located in the safest of neighborhoods. Just a few days ago, there was a murder attempt right on her floor. A woman got thrown out of the window when she surprised a burglar.
In the dimness of the streetlight, she could see his brow crinkle. “Um… No. Pulling off my jacket…earlier… my shoulder…”
“You’ll heal,” she reminded him.
“Yes, I will… but it still hurt. A lot.”
He’s quite the cry baby, isn’t he?
“You’ve heard the saying that it’s better to pull off a bandage quickly, as opposed to slowly, right?”
He nodded slowly, almost unsurely.
Or when Lois visits the nice lady with the sticky patches that will remove hair. These are always played to great effect in movies/TV shows.
“You’re not allowed to die!”
He nodded with understanding. “Okay.”
He set his hand back on top of hers again. “You’re my life, minha, and nothing you say or do will ever stop me from coming to your aid.”
“Well, if the bad guy has Kryptonite could you just not?”
Yes, but then he’d have to visit her in prison for exceeding any measure of self defense.
“Do you think I enjoy being shot?”
He does spend a lot of time standing in front of goons with guns while they unload their ammo on him. And he kind of smirks while doing so.
He snuggled back under the blanket, and she could’ve sworn he was grinning. She could wipe that smart aleck expression off his face, except that this probably wasn’t the correct time to tell him that she was going to strip that Suit off him when they got to his apartment.
Either way, Lois said that she would dispose of it in the morning.
Unless someone steals her car during the night.
“If I ever want to come in when you’re not home, I’ll just pick the lock.”
“Oh, no!” Lois said, steering him past his couch and into his bedroom. “You’re getting undressed. Jacket first.”
He tripped and landed face down on his bed. Graceful, he wasn’t.
Not to mention, what he really didn’t want to mention…
That he’s not feeling up to the task and would probably also fall asleep right in the middle of things?
“I don’t know what you were rolling around in out there, but you reek,” she called. “A nice hot shower will do you good.”
Well, the physical abuse, the prying off fingernails, skinning his face, sleeping in the garbage, his performance issues… Capone really did turn him into Reek, didn’t he?
Even if he had somehow been able to convince her that his sex phobia had more to do with him hurting her with his Super strength than some curse she hadn’t yet heard about, which was patently inaccurate, Lois wouldn’t take advantage of him.
Like she hadn’t in the hospital?
“Hello?” she said. “Oh…Oh!...What?...They shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry…No, no. He’s fine… Sure; he’s right here.” She rolled over and held out the phone. “It’s Jonathan.”
Oops?
“Let Lois nurse you back to health and you’ll be right as rain in no time. Just do whatever she says,” Martha said.
/has coughing fit/
I had been thinking more of Tahiti than Smallville...”
Bikini or less on a private beach?
Lois didn’t respond, merely slid her feet to the floor and held out a hand to him. “Let’s say we get you out of that suit, Superman, and into a hot shower.”
Awww
Michael
