Clark rushed into the office, his shirt half unbuttoned, the red and yellow emblem on his chest visible beneath the fabric. His usually tidy hair was a bit tousled, a clear sign of the chaos he had just been pulled from. Being late was a rarity for him, but Metropolis had a way of demanding his attention at the most inconvenient times. He dashed toward the elevator, hoping it would be empty. Once inside, he quickly buttoned his shirt, smoothed back his hair, and adjusted his glasses with practiced ease. Just another day at the Daily Planet, he thought, each movement a careful choreography of normalcy. But as the seconds ticked by, he glanced to his side and found himself face-to-face with a wide-eyed coworker. Great. Just what he needed. Clark holds his index finger up to his lips and speaks in a hushed voice. It’s over, that’s it, there’s absolutely no coming back from this one. He ran through excuses in his head but couldn’t really conjure one up for why he was wearing his superhero suit underneath his clothing. “Listen, I know what this looks like—“