Chapter 3
Hi Barbara!
Her heart hurt like someone had ripped it out and squeezed it tightly.
Nicely done with how this could be both real due to lack of oxygen and metaphorical due to emotional trauma.
And even though she should have learned from the experience – even though she should know better than hurting the one man who stayed at her side no matter what – she did it over and over again.
Everyone needs a hobby?
Lois, I do care for you. But...There are things about me you don’t know; that you may never know.
Funny, how Superman used the exact same words. It’s as if Clark and Superman sleep in the same bed.
Her mild-mannered partner who needed her help opening a jar?
Too much pressure and the rips the glass in half.
Who, at times, stumbled over his own two feet?
He’s used to floating, not walking.
his strange attitude toward bullets
Struck by the sheer dimension of her discovery, Lois lost her balance and bumped into the hangers again.
It would be so awkward if she bumped her head at the shelves or hooks in the cupboard and got amnesia. Then remembers flashes of Superman in Clark’s clothes and vice versa.
“You can come out of the closet now, Lois.”
Clark? Or Mayson?
Voice hoarse, she whispered, “You told me you don’t love Mayson, yet you’re ready to take a bullet for her?”
It’s … it’s not like the Secret Service loves all their charges. It’s not always like in the movie Bodyguard.
“Were you going to tell me you’re Superman?” Lois managed past the lump in her throat.
Lois! You keep that for a rainy day and milk the secret in the meantime to get exquisite oversea chocolates!
Duh, Lois, look what you missed out on!
It’s not like she can’t use her feminine whiles to get him back.
The angry beast inside her roared. “You knew the entire time I was hiding in the closet, didn't you?”
Would she have preferred if he had pulled her out while Mayson was here?
His eyes widened. “Of course not! I don't go around x-raying every room I step into.
Some bodyguard he is. First, he doesn’t sleep with his blonde charge. Then, he doesn’t scan for assassins every time he enters a room.
“Oh, now you care? You had no problems letting me believe Dillinger killed you. That would have been a good moment to tell me the truth.”
Yes, but there’s extenuating circumstances. First, there’s tons of fic depending on it. Second, he’s a mutton-headed dolt.
Lois couldn’t picture Superman going to the cinema to watch a movie or spending a night in, sharing a pizza.
Yes, that would be highly irregular for the First Lord of Krypton and his wife.
How could he still feel that deeply about her, when all she ever did was make his life miserable?
It’s either love or co-dependency.
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Though I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have told you two days ago even if you’d kissed me senseless.”
What if she had taken him backstage?
Clark pursed his lips. “So, you want to know if you’re the consolation prize? If I’d choose Mayson if I could?”
“Is that such a strange question?”
Kind of, yeah.
Someone broke into S.T.A.R. Labs this morning and stole Kryptonite.”
Someone *really* wants to kill Mayson Drake.
What were they doing with a toolbox?
It made no sense.
Kryptonite. They haven’t had time to shape bullets from it.
Not good enough. “Henderson, they’re armed to the teeth. And that kryptonite you’re looking for - I think it’s here.”
Now was that so difficult?
He was far enough for the kryptonite that the cramping in his stomach didn't set in. But already Clark felt his strength seeping out of him.
You’re doing great A-plot work here
As he moved past Mayson, she seemed to shrink into her seat. Her face was pale, her lower lip trembling. When Clark met her gaze, she looked at her feet and kneaded her hands.
Not used to a Metropolis Tuesday, is she?
“Look at this homebody, a few chairs and he's about to have a heart-attack,” one of the thugs leered.
It’s probably because he lives off sugar-saturated snacks, has chemically created muscles, and doesn’t do any sort of physical exercise program.
The sooner we have what we need, the sooner everyone can go home.”
Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if it turns out they’re not the assassins but are here to rob the place blind?
Hopefully, Lois had listened to him for once and had gotten out in time.
/looks around for flying pigs/
He’d rather not think about what would happen to her if she was still up there.
Another Junior Woodchucks merit badge, this one for Heroically Escaping Robbers Or Evil Scoundrels.
Rounding the corner, Lois brushed against her cart.
Thank you for reminding us that she’s still dressed as a French Maid, a costume Lucy had left behind from last year’s Halloween.
She wanted to help Clark, not turn into a liability.
Make it quick. Without the kryptonite, we’re sitting ducks.”
Yes, Superman could have gone John McLane on their behinds. Now it’s up to Miss Jane McClane to pick them off one by one. And it’s not even Christmas.
Her heart raced and she glanced over to the door that would take her to the next hallway. It was too late to slip inside now. Any moment now, he’d see her.
But then the next door squeaked and fell shut with a bang.
One floor beneath her.
Lois tried to remember how to breathe.
This is high-quality A-plot!
Michael
