Put away those typewriters.

[fogmayor.livejournal.com]

[Clark is just standing there, staring.  (Which he is good at.)  He has his suit jacket in one hand and his other is on the door he just came through, which he could have sworn was the door to his office.  Where he is standing now, though, most definitely does not look like any room in his house.]


What in the...?

Comments

[fogmayor.livejournal.com]

I wasn't planning to!

[contraltoflute]

Just ensuring it. Even Layton's not allowed in there yet.

[She points to one of the other doors.]

As far as I know, that one's free.

[fogmayor.livejournal.com]

[He tries the door.] There's nobody here.

[contraltoflute]

Take it as your room, then.

[fogmayor.livejournal.com]

Should I hang a plaque on it? [Mild sarcasm.]

[contraltoflute]

Sure, if you want to look like a prat.

[fogmayor.livejournal.com]

[Quietly.] I'm not the one wearing an opera mask and a feather boa...

[contraltoflute]

Because you don't have scars to hide.

[fogmayor.livejournal.com]

[He didn't mean for her to hear that.]

I beg your pardon?

[contraltoflute]

There's a reason I still wear all of this. Hell, even if I changed the outfit I'd still have to wear something that covers my face and neck.

[fogmayor.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to pry into your personal business.

[contraltoflute]

Don't make comments, then.