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{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/11/19
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=Summary needed
|Cast of Characters=256, 15
|pretty=yes
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{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>It's late. Ridiculously late, even, somewhere after midnight and no one should be in the offices of the Daily Planet at all. But Lois had been given her own key a long while ago and on the nights where she's working on a big story, or has her nose tracking something down (or is simply too lonely to go home), she ends up here. At her back desk in the far corner of the open office news room -- the corner desk meant seniority -- with the green shaded banker's lamp clicked on over her desk.<br><br>She was, apparently, working on something from an old story. A dusty, thick old file from the archives rests on her desk next to her, the faded and wrinkled binding labeled 'Fanelli', and a few sub files are out of it. But it's probably been a bit since she's actually done work, having sank down into just resting her eyes on her desk. Well, that was a while ago. She's now dead sleep on one folded arm, her coffee cold next to her abandoned pencil. At least she's not drooling!<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>Clark Kent only has so many hours in the day. He has to be both Superman, as well as Clark, and it means sacrifices have to be made. Speficially, his job suffers. He's a good reporter, but he has made sure to never be SO good that huge things are expected of him. Still, he's proven to be reliable, and with quite the keen eye for a story.<br><br>He has been out and about all day, supposedly working on some fluff pieces for a local baking competition, but was in fact helping kill a growing tsunami off of the coast of Japan. You'd be amazed what well-applied hurricane breath and insanely fast flying can do to a growing 'Act of God'. Now he's heading by the Planet to pick up some things he left behind the day before, so he isn't exactly dressed for work, but for his casual life. Jeans, boots, a thermal shirt, and a flannel jacket. It shows his midwestern roots quite well. He moves quietly through the office, pausing as he spots Lois. He blinks and then smiles a bit to himself. He watches her for a moment before he moves over, pausing at the edge of her desk.<br><br>"Lois," he whispers. "Wake up."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>While she had been fairly deeply asleep, Lois is still a somewhat paranoid, detail oriented caffeine addict, so the quiet voice in her direction (and the addition of Someone Else to her surroundings) is enough to jerk her out of that rest fairly easily. She draws in a sharp breath, sitting up abruptly straight and blinking as her hand instinctively reaches for that pencil and nearly knocks over her coffee instead. She doesn't dare let someone see her slacking on the job, much less Clark!<br><br>"Just resting my eyes! Awake! I'm awake. I swear. Just a headache. It's fine." She lies horribly, still blinking drowsily, her hair a mussed mess half across her forehead and the bedroom look in her tired gaze. She's also got a smudge of pencil on her cheek from where she fell asleep on her work. SHe looks over to him, a bit more tired confusion on her face. "...Clark...it's late. What are you doing here?" She asks huskily.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>He reaches down and catches the coffee before it topples, but only barely. "It's fine, Lois. I would never accuse you of snoozing on the job," Clark replies with a soft chuckle. He glances down at the old file and adjusts his very unhip glasses. They do wonders in making his inhumanely beautiful baby blues look more...normal. Nice eyes, but normal. "Burning the midnight oil?," he asks. Smallville is a big fan of cliches and cheesy old phrases.<br><br>He straightens and glances about the office. "I left some paperwork behind last night, and I've been so busy this is the first shot I had to swing by and pick it up. I didn't mean to startle you."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>"Look, Smallville, I realize the electric lightbulb might not have made it to your home town growing up, but we haven't used midnight oil here since before I was born. So nothing to burn, though I could use a cigarette." Lois mutters, her one worst habits, but it's nights like this that it keeps her going. She rubs one hand across her face, just smudging that pencil a bit more, but she's trying to make herself look a bit more put together. It's rare to see her in moments like this, tossled and a touch off base. Normally she's so metropolitian, so put together and power suit tough. She stares up to his eyes, caught for just a moment, that glint of blue in the dim light just enough to distract her from most everything -- including the file of the immensely dangerous man she helped put behind bars 10 years ago.<br><br>A heartbeat later, she shakes her head, jerking her gaze away from his and blinking down, her mind barely catching up with what he said. "Startle? No...no. I... should finish going through this file anyway. Fanelli's out in a week. Just... you know, cleaning up some old things. Figured I should do... some sort of expose` on it. Maybe remind some of his old 'friends' he's getting back out..."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>"You know those are bad for you, right?," he reminds her...like he ALWAYS does. He looks a little worried for her, and it's obvious in his handsome, if old-fashioned face. He shifts his weight from one boot to the other, and he glances down at the file again. He isn't used to seeing her like this.<br><br>"Mmn. I see. Could be an interesting article. Aren't you worried doing that could put the man in jeopardy? Crook or not?" He moves to sit on the edge of her desk. "I trust your judgement, though. Heck, you've been doing this longer then I have. It could also put -you- in danger, too..."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>Considering it was Lois' initial expose` and testimony that put Fanelli behind bars, she probably is in danger. But whether Clark remembers that -- ten years past and probably before he ever worked with the Daily Planet, who knows. It was still one of the biggest stories that made Lois' young career, right at the beginning of her time there. Now the file sits dusty and heavy on her desk, her handwriting familiar all across it, messy notes taken in a time before everyone got laptops in the office. <br><br>She sighs quietly, "It'll be fine... " She mutters, as she looks down and away from those baby blues of his. Something about his eyes, or just the way he acts, that means she's always been awful at lying to him. She can never meet her gaze as she does it. "I'm hoping to... if I can figure out who took over Fanelli's crew and illegal interests when he went away... maybe I can turn over a few more stones before this gets too messy. Get him back behind bars and a few of his friends with it. I should have been doing this months ago... the time just... crept up on me. He shoulda gotten life, not ten years."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>The man nods slowly to that, frowning a hint as he feels her worry. He brushes his fingers back through his dark hair, which is always a little unkempt, and he considers for a moment. "Just be careful, Lois." It's a silly thing to ask of her, of course, and he knows it. He adjusts his glasses and turns to glance about the office again before turning his gaze back to her.<br><br>"Do you...need help, maybe? I'm working on a piece on the Thanksgiving Day parade but...that can take a backburner to anything you need. You know that. No reason for you to go this alone, Lois."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>A deeper smirk crosses over her full, currently unpainted mouth -- lipstick long ago gone from the day. Lois looks up to him with a bit of a laugh, "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I got this." She states flatly, some of her general cocky confidence coming out. And she's meeting his eyes there, which is the dangerous part -- she really does think she has this, when she very well might not. She's walked into dangerous situations before too confident and calm that she'd be fine. He's pulled her out of them more than once.<br><br>Then he makes that offer, and her own pale eyes hood a bit with worry. She shakes her head almost too quickly. "No! No... Clark, no. I...you're a great reporter. You are. Even if you handle the good-feels stories a bit too eagerly, I get that is your upbringing. But... this is dangerous. These men don't mess around. I... You're still too fresh, you don't... It's just... this isn't a Smallville story, Clark. These men will hurt you. It's too much. I've got this."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>"I'm not going to lie, Lois. You know I'm bad at it, anyways. I'm scared. For you. Heck, I'm scared for me if I -do- help you, but..." He shakes his head and adjusts his glasses. "I know you're going to do it anyways, regardless of the risk, and dang it, I can't let you put yourself in harm's way without offering SOME kind of help. I was raised better then that."<br><br>His mind is already wandering to situations he might need to step in on...wearing a blue outfit, and not a tie. He doesn't mind saving her life, honestly. Well, he doesn't mind saving anyone's life, of course. Hers especially, though. She just...looks at him differently when he is Kal, and not Clark. Everyone does, though.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>The genuine worry in his eyes is enough to send her quiet for a few moments, pale eyes raised, searching his handsome face. Lois is torn, partially protective over her story and partially protective over her friend, but also more than a bit scared. She exhales through her nose, leaning back in the desk as she looks from him down to the file, "...look... ten years ago when they locked him up, we were scared about all the repercussions back then. Nothing happened. Hell, some of his boys might have been happy he was gone... THey aren't stupid enough to come after us. I just feel frustrated I didn't finish the job..." She admits quietly, looking back down to the file from his handsome features.<br><br>"...Maybe I should just leave it? Would you prefer that? Just put the file away and let the man walk free? I mean, he's... mob. He's gotten a lot of people killed in his life..." But she seems to be considering it.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>He considers it all as he sits there, listening to her. He can feel her worry, and can hear the beat of her heart and the tremor of her voice. He can read a person insanely well without reading minds. It isn't something he can turn off, either. He glances away and looks out the nearby window at the city stretching to the horizon, and he sighs.<br><br>"I would love it if you dropped it. I would also hate myself for loving it." Clark chuckles and looks back to her. "You'd hate yourself for dropping it eventually, too...and I can't make you feel that way just because -I'm- scared."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>It's strange, Lois' reaction to things like this. Yes, she's scared, but also excited. There is a part of her that lives on the adrenaline, pulse quickening, the faint warmth to her skin growing, the way someone would asking a lady out on a date. She lives for the danger, even if it still scares her. Hopefully it always will. She looks from him, then back to the files, nodding in quiet agreement to his words.<br><br>"I would. I hate myself for leaving it this long. I thought when he went away the crew would fall apart but..." She grabs the secondary file, "Teddy Guiliani... Fanelli's second, he's been working the racket pretty much since then. Was picked up two years ago for money laundering but got off. No one followed up on it." She grabs another file, "Nancy Carlton... she's gone quiet, but two of her cousins were picked up for small time heroine dealing and I'm pretty sure she grabbed his drug business, just has been smarter than him about it. It's all still there. This shit is in our city. I... I can't just let it go quiet. I can't let him come back and live comfortable again."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>He nods slowly as he takes it in. He might secretly be a superhero, but honestly he doesn't pay much attention to criminal syndicates, and who is running what or working with who. Sure, he stops muggings now and again and saves lives, but there are dozens of heroes who work more on that level. So, other then what he knows from his job, this information is new to him.<br><br>"Just tell me what you need me to do, Lois. I'll do it. Do you need me to follow you and help? Do you need me to shut my trap and let you do it? I'll do it."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>A slow exhale and Lois just shuts her eyes. For a moment or two, Clark can probably see just how tired she is. There is a reason she fell asleep at her desk -- this has been keeping her up for days, not just tonight. Running around in her mind, trying to figure out what to do. Now there is someone else to listen and it means she can let go, just a bit, instead of holding it all in. She's still trying to hold it back, but the facade is cracking.<br><br>"...Need to make a plan of action -- either try to get him back behind bars or see where he goes when he gets out, and see if we can get a handful of them convicted. We... could play with the devil -- make a deal or two with one of his lietuenants to get information that would put him away again, but then they are still out there. We can try to bring them all down while he pushes back in... it's more noble but they're smart. It might be impossible. And it's also more dangerous."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>"How about I call a cab for you, Lois? You're going to be no good to yourself, or anybody, as tired as you are. Maybe some shut-eye will help you look at the case through some fresh eyes, hmm?" He stands from his position sitting on the edge of her desk. "I can reach out to a few friends I've made on the Metro PD, if you want? Or, possibly, Gotham...if you think his stuff reaches that far. I actually have a few contacts in Gotham who might know quite a bit more." Point-eared, broody contacts that Lois cannot exactly call on.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>"No, no... I can get home, it's fine. I'll be safe. Just going to finish reading through this and I'll go..." Or, chances are she'll just pass out on the couch in the break room. He's found her there more than one morning in the past. She picks up her coffee, raising it to him in a silent toast, before knocking back a good gulp of the cold stuff with a smile. See? Everything is fine!<br><br>Then she's looking back to the file and sighs, "Probably goes into Gotham. The drug trade, at least. I know they had a pretty big web and the opiate issue hasn't exactly gotten better over the last ten years, it's only gotten worse. If you really think you have some contacts.. .well... See what they say? Don't go chasing anyone. Just see what the rumors are about Fanelli getting out..."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:15|Clark Kent (15)}} has posed:'''<br>He nods slowly as she says she'll be safe. "Alright. Well, I'll put out feelers to my friends in Gotham, and we can see where it goes from there. No promises, but..." He chuckles and shrugs. "...It's better then nothing, I guess." Clark frowns as he glances at his watch, and he turns to approach his desk and scoop up the stuff he left behind. "I have an early interview in the morning, Lois. I'm going to get going. You just...take care of yourself, okay?"<br><br>After the goodbyes, Clark makes his way downstairs...and swiftly changes into a certain red and blue outfit to pay Lois a second visit.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:256|Lois Lane (256)}} has posed:'''<br>A gentle smile from Lois, her eyes genuinely fond of Clark, "Sure thing, Smallville. I always do..." She calls after him, giving him a casual wave as he heads for the door. Of course, she really wouldn't go home immediately. Her head was rolling with too many of these thhoughts. But still, her coffee was cold and her mind unfocused.<br><br>So, she pulls herself up out of her chair and pads lazily back towards the break room. She's not even wearing her shoes, having taken them off long ago as she worked into the night, so she lets socked feet carry her quiet across the dim news room towards the stale coffee pot that has been sitting there for hours.<br> <br>
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