*whew* Back. Is it just me, or did today seem *much* longer?
Still, whoever Lorraine was, she had been really beautiful. And the guy with her had seemed nice enough. His resemblance to Clark Kent had been good, if not a bit more subtle. He was smaller than the original, maybe. Shorter, less... something. Anyway, though he wasn’t the dead ringer that she was, the two of them together were pretty amazing.
Hmm... wonder why that is? Maybe it was the glasses? Fascinating how no one pays much mind to Clark and his resemblance. You say you have a theory, CC... well, let's have it!!
Not that he wouldn’t have hired them on the spot if they had presented themselves to him. He would definitely have hired Lorraine. The man, too, if they were an item, which they clearly appeared to be. A cranky, off-balance item, but an item just the same.
*snicker* I mean... awww!!!
And they hadn’t appeared to be religious nuts on a pilgrimage, either. Sometimes the museum drew that kind of tourist, ones who had trouble distinguishing Utopia’s founders from minor deities.
*snicker*
Silas could hardly blame them. The way Lois Lane and Clark Kent were revered and lauded had always made him somewhat uncomfortable They had just been people after all. Extraordinary people, but still...
Oops... need a period after "uncomfortable".
And... /me gets the strange feeling that maybe Silas is the most recent incarnation of their souls... OH!! Idea!!! No... that doesn't track for the rest of the people... *sigh* Anyway... is this maybe why he doesn't pay much mind to Clark? And why... he's inexplicably attracted to his great-great-great (x however many) grandmother? Why he notices her more and not Clark?
All night, Clark had cast his observations and comments into the conversational black hole which sat firmly between them.
Ooh! Nice sentence right there!
He hadn’t really known how to answer. “My house. And...” He had pointed to where his parent’s crops and the barn should be. The farmhouse was surrounded by a vast parking lot. He could see admissions booths, turnstiles, ticket prices listed for the full tour or half-tour. Around his treehouse, velvet ropes and some sort of gold-plated sign. He hadn’t read it. He hadn’t wanted to.
AWWWW!!! My poor Clark needs a hug!!!!
Sara (who maintains it was clearly not cheating... the story part sat there for a good hour with out a folder... and... lame excuse? Meh. I still win.
)
