Another short part, but I promise the next part will be longer.

Thanks for all the feedback. It is certainly appreciated.

Previously on No, In Any Language:

And then, it happened.

It was a music video kind of a moment. The elevator opened and she emerged. Soft focus. Slow motion. Spotlight on her. The music swelled. His heart raced. Her hair bounced as she scanned the room to the right and to the left.

He found himself standing to his feet, gaping mutely as she whisked by his desk.

~*~

The ‘Ken doll’ had his mouth open again. Men! He probably wasn’t good with words. What did he ever do at a newspaper?

Table of Contents

~~~

It was a struggle to get any work done with every fiber of his being tuned to the beauty on the other side of the building. He had gone through the motions, setting up a few interviews for later in the day and even outlining a basic structure of what was to go in his article, but his heart wasn’t truly in it.

From her movements and activities, he gathered that she was probably joining the research department. But he couldn’t quite be sure, since the people hired in that department were usually just on the cusp of adulthood. Perhaps she looked several years older than her true age, or perhaps she was changing careers.

He would have to arrange a meeting if he wanted to find out all the answers.

But such things would have to wait until after “The Morning Brainstorm” meeting. He trudged over to the conference room, making particular note that the focus of his attraction wasn’t heading his way. That meant that she either wasn’t part of the reporting staff or she was uninformed.

~*~

She was intent, focused on her task not because it interested her but because success here would quickly lead her towards her real goals. It was the audible grumbling of her stomach that caused her to glance at the clock--quarter to one--a tad late for the traditional lunch break.

After a few wrong turns she hit upon the location vaguely pointed out earlier as the cafeteria. The room was mostly empty so she grabbed the first available seat and emptied the contents of her brown bag lunch.

She barely had time to chew her first bite when ‘The Face’ approached. Ignoring all the empty chairs in the room, he chose the one directly across from her. She hoped he would keep his mouth closed this time, as she had no desire to see his food.

“Hi.”

She grunted in a hello-type manner and returned to her giant pickle.

“I don’t think I’ve noticed you around before. Are you new here?”

It was a line, and a bad one. A man didn’t stand slack-jawed and just forget about it. She would bet and win that he had filed her away in the mental file folder which men keep of interesting women they want to fantasize about later, but never truly intend to get to know. The fact that he was greeting her now meant that he wanted to do more than fantasize, and she would be darned if she was going to participate.

“Maybe you’re just not very observant,” she taunted him. It wasn’t very kind, but it would be crueler to lead him on. And she didn’t really care if she was kind to him or not. It was the handsome ones that tended to get in her way.

He looked a bit taken aback. Good.

He paused for a moment before opening the takeout box from the bakery/sandwich shop she had noticed across the street. It was rather curious that he hadn’t eaten in their dining room, or even in their quaint outdoor café, if he hadn’t intended to eat at his desk.

After a minute he thrust his hand across the table, reaching for a handshake. “I’m sorry, I forgot my manners. I’m Clark Kent. I work as a reporter here. It’s nice to meet you.”

She thought about sticking her half-eaten pickle into his outstretched hand, just to get his goat, but she was really hungry and wasn’t sure if she wanted to forfeit the pickle. Besides, she hadn’t seen him wash his hands before he sat down, and there was no telling where he’d been.

She shrugged. “Kent. Reporter. Got it. Was there anything else you wanted?”

He grinned. “No, just enjoying my meal.”

She let the conversation die after that, focusing her attention on her bologna sandwich. She chewed in a hurry and left without a goodbye.

~*~

Clark thoughtfully set down his telescope in its usual place on the pantry shelf just outside the warm Kansas’ kitchen, and then turned to welcome his parents. His mother’s hug was especially warm.

“Clark, come on in. Perfect timing! Dessert’ll be ready in about five minutes. Why don’t you head down to the den and call your dad?”

A few minutes later, they dished up the cake.

“So, doing anything interesting lately?” his father inquired with a faux politeness that was belied by his huge grin.

“Well,” Clark began as his mother interrupted.

“We’ve been dying to hear back from you. What’s she like?”

“Lois is beautiful… focused… striking… determined… and fascinating, and we’ve had lunch together for the last two days, but I’m still just beginning to get to know her,” Clark gushed. He didn’t mention the fact that he had only learned her name around the water cooler or that she hadn’t, as of yet, even given him the time of day.

He tried to ignore his mother’s wide grin as he changed the subject.

“Besides, I came here to visit you. How are things?”

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