𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚅𝙴.

she has never cared to ask for permission. not from principals, not from drivers, and certainly not from the men who think the garage floor belongs to them more than it ever will to her. the aurelion garage hums around her, a controlled chaos, the scent of rubber and heat and something metallic in the air, but she moves through it like she owns it, heels softened by rubber flooring but no less deliberate. her badge swings at her hip ignored. her press access gets her in, but lois lane's reputation keeps her there. her eyes land on him, not where she expects. not center, not loud, not posturing like the others who glance at her twice and straighten up a little too quickly. he’s half under the car, sleeves rolled, grease along his forearms, focused in a way that makes the rest of the room feel like background noise. lois tilts her head slightly. interesting. she steps closer, slow enough to watch, to measure, the way he doesn’t rush, doesn’t scramble when someone calls something out across the garage, doesn’t even look up right away when her shadow cuts across the light. she stops just beside him, arms crossing loosely, one brow lifting as if she’s been standing there longer than she has. ❝ you always ignore journalists, or am i special? ❞ @clarkjosephs

her question goes ignored. for the moment. right now, clark remains under the car. focused on finishing touches. once he's done, once he's checked, double checked, and triple checked his hard work, does he slide out into the open. finally letting the reporter's unamused scowl cross his sights. ❝ only when i'm on duty, ❞ he deadpans, rising from concrete floors. a small, sincere smile curving along the edge of his lips. ❝ sorry for the hold up. vale requested a few repairs before her big race tomorrow. ❞ right hand raises sharply, lazily gesturing at the sleek car behind them. a now polished surface glistening under vivid sunlight streaming through garage doors. ❝ to tell you the honest truth, miss lane, i didn't realize you were dropping by. more to the point, nobody told me you were coming. ❞ not that clark minds the company. lois lane fascinates him as much as he fascinates her. ❝ let's just say interviews aren't exactly my style. i'm more of a behind the scenes kinda guy, if you catch my drift. ❞ a glance at the nearest clock indicates there's time to kill. he hums, thoughtfully. ❝ but i suppose i can grant you a few minutes. scout's honor. ❞

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“ is this the part where you tell me chin up, kid, life gets better? ” he sighs, shaking his head at @clarkjosephs. “ there is no life post arasaka. you from the middle of fuckin' nowhere or something? how do you not know that ”

❝ in a manner of speaking, yes. ❞ he deadpans, his expression neutral. in all fairness, whether it's the ever humble midwest, or a distant planet thousands upon thousands of light years away, the question isn't that far off the mark. ❝ do you want me to say chin up, kid, life gets better? ❞ kal echoes, bemused. ❝ 'cause i'm getting the impression you could use a little optimism for a change. ❞