All that dedicated, obsessive compulsive emergency readiness had been beginning to make her feel inadequate. Did she *know* where the candles were in her apartment? Actually...yes, she realized in surprised triumph. At least, she was *pretty* sure there was a stub of one in back of the kitchen drawer. The flashlight lived...er...well wherever it had been used last. Which *was* organized, she told herself firmly. And logical. So long as you could remember where you last used it you'd find it no problem at all.
Labby, all that was just hilarious!! Well done-- you "got" Lois' internal reaction (and external reation too, I guess
) right on the nose!
The stylish inside of the deserted cabin on the lake is so completely different than what they expected, and is so different from what they just endured-- nice use of description here to paint us a pretty detailed picture. I liked how Clark was a bit oblivious to Lois' increasing response to him, however reluctant she was to acknowledge it. Then he picked up on it, too. And Lois was so busy denying she felt anything, then this:
"Yeah, well, that's only because I warned them off...." She paused looking a little off balance for a moment, as though she hadn't meant to qualify her actions, and then went on blithely with a wave of a dismissive hand, "You know, because I figured you wouldn't want to be dealing with all that tacky office romance stuff while you were just starting out, trying to establish yourself with Perry. You don't need that kind of distraction. You need to focus."
Clark blinked. "Oh," he said. And then, tentatively, "Thanks."
She's trying so hard to act like she feels nothing, like nothing is there-- but she slips up and mentions she's "warned [everyone else] off"...
And poor Clark is completely unused to having a wound, much less having it tended; but for all the pain and green gills, the atmosphere keeps... um,
improving is the way we Folcs would describe it, right?
I sorta have to agree with Mere about the dashes-- they
almost work here, but I too had to sort of backtrack to remember they're still way short of breath. But you're so close-- what if they "panted" instead of "whispered", or you added "gasping" or similar... like this:
"Come on, Baby Bear," she whispered,
still out of breath, clutching at his sleeve (etc)...
Or this:
Clark turned to Lois,
trying to catch his breath. . "I don't think...what -- are you -- doing?" he
panted, frowning. And this:
Clark." She turned on him, wearily,
breathing raggedly and shivering. And one more;
But after a moment's teetering on the brink, he made it safely, dropped down onto the floor. From inside the kitchen, he glanced back at her through the window,
out of breath again. "Go back around -- to the front. I'll let -- you in."
Maybe something similar to that would work? Like I said, you've just about got it.
This is another great section. We the gentle-but-seriously-out-of-breath readers can pause in this interlude to catch our own breath right along with Lois and Clark. No guns, they can get warmed up, and there's that nice
atmosphere that keeps the gentle readers perched firmly on the edge of their seats, breathing steadily now and wiping the dregs of coffee from their keyboards where it's been soaking in since the guns started firing... oh, wait, I'm off on a tangent here... We can enjoy the somewhat charged quiet interlude (or is that an oxymoron?) and wait to see what happens next.
And we're going to find out soon, right, Labby?? You forgot to put "later this evening" after your "tbc"... Lab, are you there?? More soon?
~Toc
