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trans_92009-09-23 10:14 am
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Coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee.
Lois couldn’t remember the last time she had REAL coffee and it was driving her up the walls. A few hours before arriving here? Was that it? She’d been so busy freaking out and running around the city and looking for her missing cousin that coffee had taken a backseat that day, and she wished she had.
Everything in this place would be a lot better if she had caffiene in her system, and that’s why she was sitting in the Sensoriums, in a nice little Metropolis coffee shop, with a copy of the Daily Planet on the table in front of her, enjoying fake-coffee at her leisure. When life gave you fake coffee, the only thing to do was take it and privately grumble about nothing in particular.
She uncapped a conveniently provided permanent marker, and blackened out the header (“CITY TO EXPAND BUS ROUTES PAST SHUSTER AVENUE”) and marked in her own words in big block letters.
STAR REPORTER LOIS LANE KIDNAPED BY ALIEN SPACESHIP.
(Okay, so it was a bit cramped.)
Lois sat back in her seat, taking another sip of coffee, and contemplated opening lines. Probably something to do with “taking it in stride, once again punching life in the face”, but that seemed a bit unprofessional.
So she wrote:
Witnesses battle over a football, finds a death pen, scottish boys and
She chewed on the end of the marker for a sec, and then slammed it down in frustration.
“Who am I kidding? They won’t run this. I’m going to be shoved in Belle Reve the second I open my mouth.”
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But the problem is it's in the sensoriums. Tex can be solid in there, and if Tex can be solid it's not a good place to be.
But still. Grif smells coffee.
Somebody else called it up, so he wouldn't be all alone. It might be worth it to try. So, hoping for the best, he enters.
"Who's getting shoved where, and what is that fantastic smell?"
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"Lois Lane, glorified crazy house, and it's the best coffee in Metropolis, minus hipster price tag."
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"God I missed this stuff. It's been months at least."
Supply drops in Blood Gulch are not only sporadic, but it's never guaranteed they'll have what you want.
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Grif gets a cup and heads over to Lois' table, it's a place to sit and so far she doesn't seem mad at him. That's not usually the case with women on this ship, so he'll take it.
"Take my advice: Anybody ever asks you if you want to go fight a war against some aliens? Say 'no'."
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"I'm not looking forward to it, unless I can stave it off with this," she says, and sets down her cup. The marker gets picked up again.
Aliens.
"You know, I always hoped that the aliens out there weren't the violent kind. Guess not."
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Allen was never one not to intrude on somebody else's private city, especially if it meant coffee.
"Go somewhere amazing, see something fantastic, but try to tell anybody about it and they lock you in the clink. How are the espressos?"
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"They're as good as they usually are," Lois replied. "Being my digital hallucination, and all."
She flipped over the newspaper.
"A story this good can't stay under wraps forever, though."
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One of the espressos appears in front of him. "I really like this place. The coffee shop and the Sensoriums, I mean. Not that Stacy isn't fascinating as fuck. So, you're a reporter?"
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She stood up, leaned across her table a bit, and stuck out her hand to shake.
"Lois Lane, Daily Planet."
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He already knew.
Because he's creepy like that.So he doesn't flip a fanboy shit, just accepts her hand and shakes it."Allen Gentry. Co-head of Engineering and principal of Gentry U. I'd tell you who I worked for on Earth, but then I'd have to kill you." He raises his eyebrows cheerfully. "You can put that in your piece if you want."
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Hey, when'd he get there? Almost like he floated in.
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Lois is startled. She jumps, and then whirls around to look at him, completely unimpressed. She jabs him in the chest.
"Jeez, kid, could you ANNOUNCE your presence before you go breathing down my neck?"
She rolls her eyes, and settles back in her seat.
"Meteor... infected, sorry."
Have to be PC in front of the freaks, says Smallville.
"How do you not know about the meteor rocks?"
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"That'd be because there aren't meteor rocks. Least I don't think there are. I'm not sure what exactly you're talking about."
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"If you didn't get your powers from some freak accident with those glowing green meteor rocks, where DID you get them?"
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"Depends on what you know, whether I can tell you that," he says, plopping into the chair opposite her, and leaning back with his feet up on the table.
"So what do you know?"
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Cautiously he poked his head in and glanced around. The pretendy-coffeeshop appeared to be largely deserted, save for a single young woman obsessing over a newspaper. Jamie being Jamie, he was vaguely unnerved by this, but by god now that he'd smelled coffee he wanted some of it. He ventured in and procured a cup - black, the way he'd always drunk it. Coffee get.
And good coffee it was, too. He regarded the newspaper woman pensively as he took a sip. She was kind of muttering to herself, not that Jamie could really blame her, considering the situation they were all in.
"...who won't run what?" he asked, from a safe distance.
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"The paper I work for won't run this as a story," she said.
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He sighed through his nose and glanced back at the woman. "So you work for a paper, huh? Where're you from?"
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She stirred up her coffee a bit, and picked through a basket of various baked pastries that had appeared on the table, as she thought of it. Mm, guilty pleasures.
"You?"
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"'m Jamie Hemeros. I'm from, uh. A planet called Zi. Specifically I lived on a base in the desert in south-central Europa. Up until about three years ago, anyway." He shrugged and drank again, regarding Lois almost blandly.
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"I don't know about your world, but in mine, newspapers need PROOF before they run that stuff. And, by the way, let me know next time you're writing something; I'd love to practice my eavesdropping skills in return."
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