2444/A Late Night at the Office

A Late Night at the Office
Date of Scene:	14 September 2017
Location:	Daily Planet
Synopsis:	It's "all hands on deck" at the Daily Planet in order to rebuild the paper's website and daily printing layout after a catastrophic technical failure. Clark and Lois deal with their coworkers and their own concerns regarding their immediate obstacles.
Cast of Characters:	Superman, Lois Lane

---

Superman has posed:
It's a late night at the Daily Planet, well beyond normal business hours. And yet there is a surprising number of staff members here.

Why?

Because the paper's servers have been corrupted, meaning that everything needs to get RE-prepped for late-night printing--to say nothing of repopulating the Planet's website!

In the bullpen, Clark Kent sits with a loosened tie as he works on a series of listicles. "What did I say was the fourth-most delicious pastry of the tri-state area, again?" He scratches his head.

Nearby, Steve Lombard leans back in his chair, feet up on someone else's desk. He tosses a football up in the air. "Lucky me--I get to sit here watchin' you flounder, Kent! At least sports scores are easy to grab from other sources!"

"Lombard," Ron Troupe says with a sigh, "that means you're basically worthless."

Steve's eyes grow wide and he stares into the distance for a moment ... a moment long enough to distract him from the football plummeting toward his face. It hits him in the nose and he curses, grabbing at his face.

"Mmmm," purrs Cat Grant from a nearby desk. "/Some/ of us are smart enough to keep offline backups, dearie." She holds up a CD labeled 'Fashion Week '18-24'.

Lois Lane has posed:
"You ALL are useless, if you actually think ANY of that matters or anyone is going to care the day after tomorrow. Clark, just put some shit in there down on 5th street, that's the hot avenue these days and no one will blink twice. Lombard, you are worthless and you just pulled scores off your fantasy league's web page, so I'd take two on that if I were you. Check ESPN. And Grant... didn't we cut most of the fashion page to extend my city council article?" Lois states with a deeper smirk and a USB drive flashing between her fingertips, her fingernails perfectly manicured and flashing red around the modern technology.

She then pops that drive into her personal PC, the one she DOESN'T hook up to the servers, and opens up the spread from several hours before. "...Indeed. You must have an old copy, Grant. Here. Use mine." She saves another copy herself and then ejects the drive, tossing it across the room, "Catch. I need coffee." Lois half grumbles.

And while she just half bitched everyone out, the moment the servers went down, Lois has been peeled to her desk helping people recreate the entire night -- pulling stuff out of old emails, calling sources for back up documentation, and working head over heels for about five hours straight. No coffee. No dinner. A few went out when the techs came, she refused. So, the fact that she's going for coffee now probably means the worst is over, or that she's near passing out on her feet. Either way, not even bothering to put her high heels back on, she pads off to the shabby little break room.

Superman has posed:
Cat's response to Lois's takedown is a silent stare, mouth agape. After she manages to blink, she tries to speak but can barely make a quiet noise of shock.

Steve's response is to scowl, muttering under his breath: "It was just the once, and it was an honest mistake, anyone would've done it after the night out I had..."

Ron, meanwhile, smirks at Lois and nods. "Now that's what I call being a reporter."

Clark pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat. "It's the /principle/ of the thing, Lois! If we can't be the gold standard against which other news venues are compared, what good are we?"

As Lois moves off toward the break room, an IT technician seemingly materializes out of thin air, slipping into Lois' chair. As he prepares to type on her keyboard, Clark stands and closes Lois' laptop. "Sorry, but that's not Planet property." He offers a polite smile and then walks after Lois.

"What a turd," Steve says to Cat. "He's kissin' up even when she's not around to see it!"

Lois Lane has posed:
It's not until Lois is alone in the break room that she lets the headache show on her face, the aching tension from having sat at her desk in a quiet panic the entire night, and just the fact that she's not as young as she used to be. She takes two seconds to breathe out slowly and sinks her shoulders against the wall near the coffee machine, one hand coming up to rub at her temples. She might just stay like that forever, except she hears the soft footfalls of someone else coming in the room and she immediately pulls herself back together. No, this is fine. Everything is fine.

"Kent. Gave up on the journalistic integrity of pastries? What about your cat show article, did you salvage any of it? I know it's hard hitting journalism back in Smallville. I'd hate for you to lose all that work." Lois was only partially joking, but the defensive jokes had cracks around the edges. SHe was tired and snappy, so poor CLark was paying for it. She then turns to grab at the pot of coffee. There better be some left.

Superman has posed:
As Clark enters the break room, he nods slowly in response to Lois' words. "I suppose it's not the most spectacular story that's ever been published, true," he says quietly. "But it was my assignment and I aim to get it right. Our readers deserve that, don't they?"

Clark pulls a chair out from the small round table near the fridge and sits in it, his shoulders slumped forward. He stifles a yawn and sighs. "We can't be expected to just invent stories, as tempting as it might be to think there's some salacious reason the Planet's data backups all disappeared."

He looks up to the coffee pot. "Enough in there for two cups?" he asks in a hopeful tone.

Lois Lane has posed:
"No, we can't just invent stories... and we're not. Hence all of us being here until dawn." Lois rasps out quietly, rubbing one hand across her eyes in an attempt to see straight. "And that's why I keep the personal laptop and never hook it up to the servers. People used to call me paranoid. Paranoid my ass. The more information goes digital, the LESS secure it is. The only thing secure is paper, and not even that. The more advanced we get with technology, the more crap data storage gets. We're still finding clay tablets from a thousand years ago with data on it... You think any of our shit is gonna last 1,000 years? Sure as hell not." Lois mutters, a rant he's heard from her before but she's feeling particularly salty about it.

She then pads straight over to the coffee machine, picking up the pot and staring at the single cup of coffee that is left. She sighs at his question, "Yeah...just enough." She lies, grabbing down two of the paper cups and halfing the cup between them. She gives him crap but there were little things that showed, well, she might just care. She hands him his half cup.

Superman has posed:
Clark strokes his chin and nods. "You know, that's not a bad idea, Lois," he says, accepting the paper cup. "Paper as a secure way to restore digital data. Do you think any of the support crew can have old paper issues scanned to grab text to create stories? I know it won't necessarily help with images or the born-digital content, but..."

He sips the coffee. "Maybe I'm just tired, but this is surprisingly great. What's your secret? Letting it sit for a set amount of time before the perfect flavor stews?"

Meanwhile, out in the bullpen, a crash can be heard--followed by Cat shrilly shouting: "LOMBARD, YOU IMBECILE! THAT WAS MY ONLY DISC BACKUP OF THOSE STORIES!"

Lois Lane has posed:
"We've scanned a lot of the back issues... But..." Lois considers, exhaling quietly, "Well, once the paper is printed, we have that record. It's a matter of making certain they don't destroy the paper archives every three years like facilities wants to do." Lois swears quietly, taking a deep drink of her coffee and sinking down into the thread bare break room couch like a puppet who has had her strings cut. She's just that tired.

"...and you are just that tired. Or blowing hot air. Or they don't have good coffee in Kansas. Probably all three things." Lois mutters raspingly at him, though a fond smile crosses her own ashen features for just a heartbeat or two. Then it turns into a wince as she hears the screaming. "...should I tell her I have most her stuff on the back up since I took over most of her page?"

Superman has posed:
Clark gets to his feet with a bit of a stumble. "Uh-oh, I hope--" he begins, stopping as Lois appears nonplussed by the commotion. He listens to her and purses his lips. "Well, maybe it's better if I let her know. After all, it might seem a bit less ... ah ... competitive? ... that way."

He shrugs, holding his palms up, and chuckles. "I mean, I know you don't necessarily see /Cat/ as competing for your page space. But she seems to look up to you, in her own way."

Clark steps to the door. "Tell you what ... if you hear the sound of her slapping me hard in the face, you can take a picture of the mark for posterity."

Lois Lane has posed:
A sideways look is given in Clark's direction as he volunteers to go handle it for her. The fact that Lois sat down on the threadbear couch now means she's owned by that couch, so getting up to tell Cat probably wouldn't happen one way or another, but Clark actually earns a half smile from her through half lidded eyes.

"Hmm... It would be kinder. ANd we have to work with her tomorrow. Fine. Go. Tell her. You can grab the file off my computer -- ONLY YOU. The password is Watergate." She mutters with a flat smirk, that being a password that would probably surprise no one coming from her. "I'll be listening for the slap." She offers him with a wink, then she sinks back a bit deeper in the couch, half sprawling as she takes another good sip of her stale coffee.

Superman has posed:
With a nod, Clark disappears out the break room door, his footsteps quieting as he walks away.

A moment later, his voice can be heard: "...apparently backups still exist, here on--"

His voice is immediately cut off by a loud squeal of joy and an excited clapping of hands.

"OH, CLARKIE-POO! YOU'RE MY HERO!"

There's a sound--not a slap, but a ludicrously wet smack of lips on a cheek.

Clark's nervous laughter carries faster than his followup. "Ahh, Cat, I'm as pleased as you are, believe me, but the real hero here is /Lois/."

"Oh." The response is curt and cold as ice. "Of /course/," Cat snarls.

Lois Lane has posed:
"...Clarkie-poo..." Lois mutters beneath her breath, practically spitting the words as she stares at the door that leads out into the office. She has a half a mind to march out there, but then Clark is giving the news about her back up. Exhausted or not, she suddenly feels a need to save the boy from that woman's snarl. So, with a quiet groan, Lois pushes herself back up off the old couch and stalks back into the front room.

"Sorry, Cat. I didn't realize you'd actually trust Lombard...Here. Let me..." Lois murmurs, leaning over to open and type in her password. She grabs the drawer open on her desk, pulling out one of about fifty USB drives in there, sticking it into the side of her computer and quickly downloading the InDesign file, "It's... the layout file, so you're going to have to pull your text out of it, but I've got the fashion pages along with mine..." It takes a few moments, InDesign documents a hell of a download, but she gets it on the drive and then hands it over to Cat. "You're welcome."

Superman has posed:
Her eyes narrowed, Cat accepts the USB drive with a barely suppressed sneer. "Gee, /thanks/, Lois." After the drive is in her hand, she clutches it and sighs. "I suppose it'd be too much to expect /not/ having to see your above-the-fold pieces over mine."

Then, she turns and bats her eyelashes at Clark. "Still," she adds, her voice calming somewhat, "thanks for trying, shy guy."

For his part, Clark attempts to surreptitiously wipe off Cat's bright red lipstick from his cheek with his tie. It's not very successful. "Ahh," he mumbles. "I remembered--it was the apple turnovers at Garcia's Bodega."

Steve attempts, equally unsuccessfully, to crazy-glue the broken CD back together over the shards of a flower vase.

Lois Lane has posed:
"...Catherine Grant. I could lecture you right now about real journalism, about the meaning of a long term investigation, or that there is more in this city than looking good. BUt that would just be cruel. I understand you love what you do. I can respect that, and I'm glad I have your stuff. So you ARE welcome. You just have to understand I love what I do as well and it just happens to sell more papers than you. So we can work together or you can keep pouting and delay us even longer." Lois states flatly, her tolerance for bullshit having completely gone out the window.

After that little lecture, she turns back to her desk and slumps down in the chair. She stares at her open computer, all of her articles in tact, but doesn't move otherwise. Her work is done. She COULD go home, but there are others who might need her and she's int hat so tired she can do nothing but stare at the screen phase. Hell, she's even forgotten her coffee.

Superman has posed:
Looking around, Clark nods. "You know what could really help? Ma Kent's tea. Sure, some say it's just extra-brewed Lipton's, but it always helped me get through late nights studying for exams in Smallville."

He claps his hands and procures a handful of tea bags from a drawer in his desk. "Plus, it's calming despite being a pick-me-up. Tastes like home."

Clark begins back toward the break room, but then he pauses and looks back at the group. "I know we'll get through this, everyone. This is the greatest team of reporters /ever/."

Cat Grant is busy mumbling profanities at a barely audible level while copying and pasting story after story after story into new files on her computer. In the midst of her curse storm, she manages to whisper, "Thank you," with a millisecond's worth of glancing in Lois' direction.

Lois Lane has posed:
Having already said you are welcome twice, Lois doesn't feel the compulsion to actually say it again. But she gives a little look in Cat's direction and a small tilt of her head. A truce, for now. Lois then looks back to her computer and rubs one hand across her eyes, hoping they will focus a bit better now. To no luck. "...Did Smallville just ramble something on about his mother's tea? Isn't she back... in Kansas, or wherever?" Lois mutters, her brain only catching up. She then realizes that he's heading back to the break room. "I better follow before he burns the place down on that eletric kettle. I don't even remember the last time we used that thing..."

No, she swears she's not just making an excuse to spend time with Clark. He was a nerd and her friend, that was it. Even if both Steve and Cat watch her with smirking, knowing eyes, Lois is following Clark into the break room, oblivious to the rumors that are already going around. "You flying your mum in here to make us tea, or something, Smallville? Tea won't cut it on a night like this..."

Superman has posed:
Shaking his head, Clark offers a warm smile. "Not at all. She taught me her recipe. Moms always know best, don't they?" He begins filling up the kettle and organizes his pile of tea bags.

"You're a good person, Lois. Cat appreciates it, I can tell--even if she won't say so. Before you came out, she ... ah ... tried to let me know how grateful she was for your help." Clark procures several clean mugs, somehow, from the depths of a cabinet.

"I've got to say, the real story should be how the staff overcame these obstacles to get the news out on time!" Clark turns to lean against the counter while the kettle begins to heat up. "And its ability to come together as a team to succeed."

Lois Lane has posed:
"She tried to show you how grateful she was by nearly assaulting you in the work place and you REALLY could go to HR about her, you know? Sexual harrassment goes both ways." Lois dead pans, trying not to sound a little bit jealous because maybe she is but there is no reason for her to be jealous. So, clearly, this was an HR concern. She sinks her slender frame against the coffee table, resting hips there and folding her arms across her chest. Just a touch cold, the sort of cold that comes with bone-deep exhaustion, but she is holding up.

"...It really is the story that we didn't kill each other. But we print that shit and then sudden the Gotham Gazette is calling us a two bit hack job of a paper who can't even keep our servers running. And... they might be right, but we can't let the public know. We expose everyone else's dirty underwear, not our own. Come on, Smallville. This is first year J-school stuff." Lois half teases him, tossing a casual wink in his direction.

Superman has posed:
"I'm sure Cat was just showing her appreciation as best she could, given her excitement. No reason to suspect the worst, Lois," Clark says softly. "Not everyone's cool under fire--or, perhaps, used to the pace of life during harvest season. Which, you've got to admit, this night kind of feels like."

Clark adjusts his glasses and looks to the kettle. "As far as the technical failure and reporting on it ... I suppose you're right. But perhaps it could be useful to show our readers that we're as human as they are? It might, I don't know, add a sense of compassion throughout our reporting. Heck," he adds with a wink, "it might even bring some readers to sympathize with Steve."

"Nearly there..." Clark says, staring at the kettle. It begins whistling, almost as if on cue.

Lois Lane has posed:
"If *you* want to write that editorial, Kent, I'll... back your play with Perry, but good luck getting it past. You don't quite have the innocent pout Olson used to, or the boobs that Grant does, so you're going to have to get this through on charisma alone. But... if you want to put it in, sure, put more work on your desk. Would be nice to see you do something that isn't cats and pastries." Lois mutters, unfolding her arms so she can give his elbow a teasing little chuck with her knuckles. She knows he's written more, but it never means she'll stop bothering him about it.

"...and I'm skeptical about this tea plan. If coffee that's been brewing since this morning can't get me through, you really think Ma Kent is the answer?" Lois eyes the kettle as it begins to whistle, like he's brewing up some demon magic potion and not just tea. Tea is a foreign concept in Lois' world.