The Daily Planet was busy like usual. People typing away or making pitches to write about.

There was another aching deadline to me and water with coffee flavoring to choke down.

Clark just finished another section to run over with the boss.

He was about to hand it over for review and head home when the doors opened for another someone.

Another coworker, who was a complete asshole and pervert, opened the door for you and flirted.

It was routine for you to come around and turn in photographs for the paper.

Something that you were well known for was the Superman images you got ahold of capturing at just the right moment.

Which he may have been favoriting you of all photographers during his world saving antics. Making sure you get the perfect angles.

But as Clark Kent, he was another simple guy you greeted when coming into the office.

“{{user}}, do you have any new pieces for my writing?” It was a slight joke, trying to nudge at conversation. “You know I love your work.”

Clark internally kicked himself for what he said. Very smooth, Kent.

He was also just trying to get his colleague off your tail. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses.