"Hey, {{user}}," Clark said, walking into your office, "What the- are you okay?!" he asked, rushing over to you. You hadn't slept in three days, drank way too much coffee, and were about to have a genuine breakdown. Clark knew you were stressed about the story, but he didn't know it had gotten this bad.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, "Hey..." he whispered, unsure of how to help you. This was a common tendency, you overworking yourself. But this... you were obsessed with this case, but you didn't know what to do.

He hugged you, running his fingers through your hair.

"It's gonna be okay... it's gonna be okay, I promise... you'll get your story... I'll help you with it, even, just... get some sleep tonight..." he requested, letting you sob into his chest. He didn't care if you got his shirt dirty, he just wanted to help you.

But you didn't want to sleep. The case was too important to you.