Loved every bit of this part, having said that I can't wait to read the next bit. Maybe the only reason Clark hasn't spoken yet is that he's simply waiting for Lois to do so first? He is after all always the gentleman.
This morning when I was showering, I found myself thinking about the fact that it's been over 7 years since Clark has had a shower, and then I realized how much this story has taken over my random musings.
I'm chalking it off to its brilliance
I want to echo others sentiments about the pacing and style of this section. I found it worked well mirroring the state of Lois's mind.
To me Lois's shopping insecurities fit the essential character of Lois Lane - hard-nosed on the job, be it reporter or agent, but able to feel deeply and perhaps be embarrassed by the novel experience of buying male underwear.
Always glad to get inside Clark's head.
Now he felt as if the most precious thing in his life had been ripped away.
*sniff* Worst part about hope is that it can be taken away again.
Poignant that Lois is musing on the same subject, acknowledging that she eventually will have to leave him.
*hopes this is never the case*
Things to give him back a small scrap of self-worth - a haircut, socks and shoes, the means to shave if he wished to, scissors so he could cut his nails instead of having to bite them off.
I've been wondering when this would come up, concurrently trying to diagnose the "state of Clark's powers". Will he or won't he be able to employ the traditional methods for his shave and haircut? I can imagine the awkward "Um, I need a mirror so I can shave with my heat vision" note.
The paper airplane interlude was adorable.
It rekindled a spark of youthful vitality that she'd thought had gone forever.
And engulfed her with playfulness ... frivolity.
It was powerfully persuasive ... and Lois found that she didn't want to resist.
Glad that she is able to regain this part of herself.
She would walk into the cell - without a rod - and she would speak to Mr Kent. Face to face.
Can. Not. Wait.
