heart of steel. (Clark Kent/Superman)

chapter five.

"And I just want you to know: you deserve the best, you're beautiful."

"You work where?" My eyes were saucers, and I was praying that I'd misheard him.

"Uh, the Daily Planet," His face showed confusion as to Cheyney and I's reactions. I put my head in my hands.

"Well, can't date this one, Kins."

I glared at Cheyney, Slapping the back of her head.

"What? You heard the kid, he works for Diaper Planet-"

"Uhm, Daily Planet." Clark cleared his throat, breaking in to our conversation. Once we both turned our harsh stares to him, he mumbled an awkward "sorry."

"Anyway, he works for Dookie Planet," She shot a daring glare at him, as if pushing him to open his mouth. "And this isn't Romeo and Juliet. I mean, you see how that turned out."

Shoving her, I turned to Clark, who still seemed overly confused.

"I am one of the top journalists at World Gazette." For a second his face scrunched up, but then it smoothed out in a wave of understanding. "Sorry for Chey's reaction, but the Daily Planet has been our only competition since we started business here."

"It's fine. It actually kind of explains why she's such a..." He carried off, as if searching for the perfect word. "Savage!"

Cheyney's glare at him was something fierce.

"I'm not a savage," Cheyney flipped her hair overdramatically. "I'm a queen, whore. Get it right."

And with that, we headed for the Daily Planet.

^six p.m.; at the World Gazette:

"Mallard!"

Flinching, I tried to creep out the door. Apparently I had no luck.

"Mallard! I see you!"

Sighing, I made my way back to Hancock's office. Once I was in, she slammed the door and let loose on me.

"Why in hell are you getting phone calls-- personal phone calls, at that-- from the Daily Planet?" She yelled at me, leaving me in a state of shock.

Legitimately, I thought I had forgotten to turn in something, or that I hadn't turned off my office computer. But this was surprising. I had no social life, so why was I getting phone calls, especially from the Daily Planet?

Then it hit me:

Clark.

"Well, are you gonna answer, retard?" She barked, and her wording set me off.

"First of all, it shouldn't matter if I'm getting personal calls. You get them daily, from you're little on-again, off-again manwhore, don't you?" Hancock had a face of horror and embarrassment, but I just kept firing. "Yeah, we all know. But does your husband? I think not. But we all keep your secret. So explain again, why can't I have a few personal calls?" And with that I stormed out.

Okay, let me explain why I'm in such a crappy mood.

I was interviewing some people at a local fast food restaurant, getting personal opinions on a 'feline meat allegation'.