Sara, you’re…back!
/checks inbox history/ Oh dear… but you’re *back*!
And it’s so funny that we just had a Clark’s twin challenge and a WIP-response by Queenie a couple of days ago. This is just too great a coincidink
Lois shot forward and tried to get to her partner muttering a constant denial all the while under her breath.
LOIS: Oh, nononono. He *can’t be Superman. He just can’t! Please let him be dead. Please make that he’s not Superman!
Almost in the same instant, a hand clamped hard around her thigh,
The crooks coping a feel?
then she felt the distinct tapping of a single finger - one - two - three, then another solid squeeze.
Oh, lookie there! Clark’s getting frisky!
LOIS: Ha! And they call *me* the Ice Queen. Apparently, I’m hot enough to raise a corpse.
Moments later a gentle hand, touched her shoulder and she whipped her head around, only for her hopeful gaze to shatter as she took in the muted colors of Superman's uniform in the darkened apartment.
Huh, so she didn’t realize he’s Superman? And here I thought that maybe…
Then, holding her gaze steadily, he squeezed her right shoulder firmly, then tapped it - one - two - three - four times, then squeezed it firmly again, all the while holding her gaze.
Ooookay?
“I’m a superhero”
FIVE: “I’d like to consummate now. Pretty Please?” when Clark does it and “Storage closet, *now*!” when Lois does it.
Clark shook his head sadly, whispering, "I don't know... there were too many witnesses... no *human* could have survived those shots..."
There’ve been all sorts of resolutions, from crazy things like using a clone to more sensible ones, like a bullet proof vest. What’s your take going to be?
Especially if you and I walk into work tomorrow and act like we were never there?"
Ah, yes. One of the sensible ones
A few minutes later a voice Lois wasn't familiar with came on the line. "Ms Lane, Mr Kent, this is Detective Wolfe. I'm not in the habit of talking to the press but, Henderson is vouching for you so I figured I might as well see if we can help each other..."
So, Henderson blackmailed his colleague or threatened him with desk duty or some such thing if he made his life with the reporter harder than need be?
but they can't agree on her hair color
Brown hair.
Chestnut.
Black.
Really dark brown.
Red gown.
Light red dress.
Deep red number, with a lot of skin showing.
Legs.
And we have even less to go on for the poor guy."
Looked like a sailor in a suit.
Neanderthal.
He was quite dull.
Reminded me of Superman, kind of.
Wolfe replied, "We aren't sure what they did to the casino owner, but no, no blood evidence for either victim."
Have they tried removing the concrete from around his body?
These wackos are a different breed from what you're used to facing, they'll shoot to kill if you look at 'em wrong. Henderson wanted a word before I let you go."
HENDERSON: Kent, be careful out there. And Lane, if they shoot, try to step in front of Kent. Can’t afford lose any more good reporters.
Lois snorted, "I had a date, Henderson, but if it'll make you happy I'll try and find these gangsters for you..."
A…*date*?
Henderson sounded almost like he'd choked, "A date?" It was the most flustered Lois had ever heard him. "Mind if I ask with who?"
Lex Luthor’s reanimated corpse?
Lois turned to her partner, who was now frowning at her, "Why yes, I do mind, Inspector. But maybe he doesn't, anything to add, partner?" she fluttered her eyelids at him as his jaw dropped.
Did she just imply…?
Henderson laughed genuinely and replied, "Congratulations on pulling your head out of the sand, Lane. Kent, not sure if I should offer congratulations or commiserations... but it's about time!"
Henderson certainly thinks so. Plus, did he just out Clark to his partner?
Clark gulped and started to reply but she cut him off, "*And* you owe me a date. The *best* date you can come up with!" she volleyed with a triumphant grin.
pausing only to give his shoulder a squeeze, four taps, and another squeeze before heading for the door, knowing he'd be right behind her.
That was great! Am so glad you found your mojo again
Michael