"That *was* work," Clark protested. "See how breathless we are."
Yep. Monster created. /check/ Also, Clark's finally got a hobby.
"Are they going to sleep together?"
"Eventually," Lois said. "After I've put them through a few realistic impediments."
Also, she probably wants to get more field research done to get the details of the 'male agent' right.
Rachel stared at Lois for a long moment. "For Clark's sake, I'm willing to trust you," she said. "But you should realise that if I ever believe you are using him or taking advantage of his situation, I will do anything I can to ensure that the damage you cause is kept to a minimum."
Hmm... The problem is, Lois *is* using him. And she *is* taking advantage of him. Usually, both at the same time. Unfortunately, Clark knows it and happily agrees with the using and advantaging by his wife.
Lois had to tell him - *before* any of those things happened. The timing was critical. She needed to secure as much time as possible for Clark, but each extra day, each extra hour risked something detonating the bomb.
Hmm... you are usually quite sneaky. So, I'm starting to think the outcome's got to be a lot different than what Lois keeps spelling out in her mind. Repeatedly, and for all the FoLCs to see. Or it will be so much worse than even we could imagine. Maybe, Clark might actually run off with Rachel, try to find Lana, and when he finally stumbles across Mayson, too, found a polygamous community somewhere in the outskirts of Metropolis.
"That's why I am going to try to make one for Clark."
Oh dear. What sort of doom is going to befall them now?
After slipping it into the oven, she set alarms on both of her cell phones and began clearing away the floury mess.
So much preparation can only lead to catastrophe. Maybe the oven will blow up and take half the kitchen with it and send Lois into a coma plus amnesia afterwards?
When the kitchen was spotless again, Lois sat at the table and waited for the time to pass, determined that she would not destroy another pie with her inattentiveness.
Her mind drifted.
Poor pie. It never had a chance...
Her agency cell phone buzzed, carving through her thoughts. As she rose from the table, the alarm on her personal cell sounded, too. Lois slipped on Martha Kent's mitts, opened the oven door, and gasped.
The pie was perfect.
Michael
