2012-06-20 A Reporter Walks into...

Stark Tower, New York City. With the seeds of possible story planted by a certain Mr. Worthington, Lois figures it wouldn't a bad idea to see if any of the -other- billionaires in the States might have some sort of something with Luthor that they don't want to talk about. The question is: how to get them to talk? Lois has often found that simply knocking on the front door and asking to borrow a cup of sugar can work, so off to New York she goes, and manages to talk her way into the Tower to look around. Not any of the more touchy floors, but some of the public areas, Lois has been able to easily gain access to. The wonders of a press pass, no? It's in that tiny boundary between where she was given permission to be, and where she wasn't that Lois inches herself. Okay, struts herself! Because if you act like you belong, most people tend not to question you.

Dr. Henry McCoy was actually on-site for a meeting which was running late, when he got conscripted to show a nosy reporter around. That nosy reporter of course being one Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. Spotting Ms. Lane, Hank adjusts his tie and checks his breath as he approaches. He's uncomfortable around reporters due to his own secrets, not to mention being somewhat uncomfortable in social situations in general. "Ms. Lane?" Henry calls out, approaching her and looking her over. She doesn't look too intimidating, but given Hank's experience with both Science and Mutation... appearances can be decieving. "I'm Dr. Henry McCoy, I've been asked to give you the nickle tour."

Violet eyes scan over at the sound of Hank's voice. The slim reporter turns to face him, gaze studying him even as she smiles at him and extends a hand. "Dr. McCoy. Pleasure to meet you," she says pleasantly, mind trying to place the doctor. "Physics, Robotics, Atronomy," she asks, trying to sort out what McCoy is a doctor of.

When Lois offers her hand, Hank hesitates for a moment. It's possible he's a germaphobe, but he does eventually take the hand and shake it lightly. It's possible that Lois might note that Hank's hand is rather larger, especially in relation to his build. "Yes." Hank jokes, flashing Lois a playful grin. "But my primary area of expertise is Bio-Chemistry and Genetics. But I tend to dabble in a bit of everything for fun."

Noting the hand saize, Lois glances down, her brows quirking faintly. "Big hands," she quips before completing the shake and withdrawing her hand. "Mind if I take notes on this, Dr. McCoy," she asks, reaching into her purse and coming up with a pen and a notepad.

Big feet as well, though his loafers seem to be chosen to try make that aspect less obvious. "Thank you?" Hank laughs. "My father always hoped I would go into football, but while his love was for the 'Sweet Sciences', my passions for actual Scientific Research." Hank perks a brow when Lois pulls out the pen and notepad from his purse. "Pen and Paper? You're a fan of the classics, I would gather?"

You know what they say about big feet. Lois grins at the classics remark, winking. "You have no idea," she says. The pen is a little odd for a normal ballpoint. The back end is thicker and had a digital display on it. "So... Dr. McCoy, what's new in Stark Industries that they'd send a Bio-Chemist and Genesist to give me the grand tour."

"Please, call me Hank. I'm not one who depends on titles to stroke my own ego." Hank turns, gesturing for Lois to join him so they can walk and talk. "I'm just a small cog in a giant machine, so I'm not sure what the rest of the company is up to. I was just here for a meeting and lost the draw." Hank glances over to Lois, offering a light grin that suggests he's joking. "Perhaps you've got some scoop brewing that might be of interest to us? Or at least Mr. Stark himself."

A meeting, huh? Lois smiles, falling into step at Hank's side. While she's got the notepad open and posed to write, she has yet to touch the tip of her pen to the faintly dotted paper. "Now, Hank. Don't go asking all of my questions for me. I don't want people to get the idea that just anyone can do this job."

Wanting to make Lois feel comfortable as they talk, Hank decides to lead her towards the cafeteria. "That's what they pay me for Ms. Lane, always thinking one step ahead." Henry offers with a sly wink, rolling his shoulders just a bit. "But if you have some questions, I'm happy to answer what I can. But first... can I buy you a cup of coffee or some lunch?"

Grinning, Lois nods to Hank, following where he leads. "Sure. I'd love some," she replies pleasantly, eyeing the innards of the building as she walks. The ballsy femme reporter drove (flew?) to New York to poke around Stark Tower. She told Perry: Got a hunch, be back Monday. Now, she's walking with Dr. Hank McCoy, her digital LiveScribe pen out and most likely recording their verbal conversation. "Who invited you to the meeting, if I may ask? I didn't think Stark was into any bio-medical or genetic applications...."

Dr. Henry McCoy gestures for Lois to take the lead in the cafeteria line, offering her a tray while grabbing one for himself. "Here you go, Ms. Lane. I know you're probably used to more sophisticated fare, but it's suprisingly edible." Hank grabs a couple of packets of Twinkies for himself, and a cup of black coffee. If Lois is paying attention, she might notice about 5 packets of sugar being added. "Well, like I said I sort of dabble in a variety of areas. Those are just the two I have PH.D.'s in."

"Oh, really," she asks, violet eyes taking notes even if her mouth doesn't immediately jump to questions. She sets her pen on the tray and moves through the line, opting for something easily chewed and swallowd, able to eaten in small nibbles, and then left on the plate in a hurry; water is her drink of choice for the moment. She stands at Hank's side, moving with him without comment on the food. TDP needs a cafeteria! "What do you dabble in? I'm curious what else yuo had time to study, given the two you got PhD's in."

"Lois?" *CRASH* Clark Kent trips into someone in line as he enters behind the pair and tries to get in line. He knocks over the person's tray, spilling milk over a large radius of tile. "Oh golly, I'm so sorry." He says to the person, trying to help clean up the mess almost immediately. Realizing he'll need some napkins, he begins to pat down the young lady on the leg and gets an uncomfortable look from his victim. He reddens, "Sorry."

Beast sticks with just the coffee and snack cakes for now, deciding to wait until later for a full meal. "You name it, and I've probably dabbled." Hank seems a bit uncomfortable, like he doesn't like talking about himself. "I graduated from Harvard when I was 15, if that helps explain things." Hank offers, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. He breathes a sigh of relief at the sudden distraction from what appears to be another 'Guest' to Stark Tower. "Does this one belong to you?" Hank calls back to Lois, as he moves to try to help the poor woman before things get worse.

The familiar voice of the dork that Perry's leashed to her hip, makes Lois groan inwardly. Knowing what's coming as he steps in to join the line, Lois deftly steps to the side, taking her tray with her. Her violet eyes watch with an amused twinkle as the other reporter Clarks out and milk goes EVERYWHERE. She watches, surpressing a chuckle (if not the grin) as Clark begins to pat the poor girl down. "At least offer to buy her a drink or take her out to dinner before you feel her up, Clark," she quips at him, laughter dancing in her tones.

"Yes," she replies to Hank with a very tolerant tone, the way an elder sibling is tolerant of the younger that Dad's paid the elder to take with her to the Def Lepard concert even after the lengthy days of protesting. "Hank McCoy, Clark Kent," she states by way of introduction, voice dismissive as she turns to find a table to sit at. "You going to join us, Smallville? Or are you planning on gettig to third base first?"

Clark gives the woman a pained, "I'm sorry." She's obviously not too pleased and just kind of storms off. Clark readjusts his glasses, "What? Lois. I would never try...I thought you said I was...Hi, who's this?" Clark stretches out a milky hand towards Hank, but then thinks better of it and grabs some more napkins, dries, and offers again.

"Smallville?" Hank offers with a soft hrmm under his breath as he takes Clark's hand and shakes it lightly. He lets Lois handle introductions. "Pleased to meet you." His other hand is soon placed on Clark's upper arm and tries to lead him away from from the Cafeteria line before someone else gets manhandled. "Hmmm.... Smallville, Kansas.... right?" Hank asks, as he steers Clark towards one of the open tables. "So this must be quite the storylie you're working on Ms. Lane, if the Daily Planet felt the need to assign two reporters for a fluff piece."

Blast it! If Perry hadn't -insisted- Clark come with her, this story would have been in the bag! Lois forces a smile to her face. The expression fails to reach her eyes fully as she eyes Clark with more than a little rivalry. "Kent needs the extra experience shadowing," she states. A brow quirks, daring Clark to counter that in the open. She lifts her chin lightly as she sets her tray on the chosen table top, smirking as Clark nearly 'outs' himself in Stark Tower. Oh, the cheshire grin she gives him at that, hinting that she could have pounced and gone for the kill but didn't.

Clark summarily ignores Lois' cattiness and instead shakes Hank's hand vigorously. "That's right! Smallville, Kansas! You've heard of it? Is it the Corn Days festival? Everyone who knows of it seems to know the Corn Days festival."

There's just something about Ms. Lane's story that doesn't entirely add up. So Hank is somewhat on edge about the questions she's asking... or so far, not asking. "Dunfee, Illinois...." Hank offers, gesturing to himself. He's something of a farmboy himself. Hank takes a seat, sliding one out from under the table towards Clark. "Now, where were we?"

Oh, Dear, God! Clark did NOT just say that, did he? Lois drops her seat, fingertips going to her forehead. She eyes the two nerds silently, the cheerleader forced to sit with the brains of the school. Smiling again, pulling that story-winning expression back to her face, an expression she's practiced in the mirror, Lois nods to Hank. "Just wondering what other fields you've studied, is all," she says conversationally.

"Dundee?" Clark exclaims. "Well hey, two midwesterners on the East Coast. That's pretty swell." The comparisons between Dr. McCoy and Clark Kent seem to end there.

Dr. McCoy offers a soft chuckle at Clark. "No, Dunfee. But close." Hank took a sip from his coffee, relieved to have somethng to distract him from Ms. Lane's questions. "It's probably easier to relate what I haven't put time into studyng. You should see me play Trivial Pursuit. Sorry, I just hate talking about myself. It comes off as egotistical bragging."

Clark peers and shakes his head a bit. He knows Dundee is a suburb of Chicago. Dunfee? He's not so sure. "I'm not really sure where that is. I imagine it's very small. How'd you end up here, Dr. McCoy?"

Dammit, Clark! Lois gives Clark a bit of a look, but if Hank seems happy to answer those questions, Lois ponders briefly. Then, a wicked thought coming to mind, she excuses herself to go find the ladies room. She collects her pen and her purse, and rises to step away, not giving any attention to Clark if he moves to stand with her. Old fashioned, out dated, obnoxious... he did stand up, didn't he? He better have. Lois glances at him out of the corner of her eyes before she heads to the 'bathroom'. Yeah, that's it. Oh look! A hall way that look decidely 'off-limits' and office like. One glance back at the boys to make sure they're still entertaining each other - 'You let that gay-flag fly, Smallville! HOld his attention long enough for me to go find the REAL story around here,' she thinks to herself. - before slipping away fully.

Alone now in the innerds of Stark Tower, without anyone sent on a misison to find her (as Hank was), Lois continues to walk purposefully toward that very promising looking door, mind working. First Worthington's in a meeting with Luthor, and now Stark's got McCoy (a PhD in biochemistry and Genetics) in meetings in Stark Tower. Something's fishy around here... and it's NOT Aquaman. And if something's fishy when it comes to the billionaires of the world, there's a story.

"I'm telling you, Steven. This is going to be the best pizza you have had since your thawing. Seriously. It's famous." Tony Stark is on the elevator with his new broski and holding a piping hot pizza that smells so far beyond delicious that the chances of them actually making it out of the elevator without eating some slices is uber-slim.

J.A.R.V.I.S. intones through the elevator's PA system. "Sir. We have a visitor. Of the snoop variety."

"Male or Female?"

"Female."

"Hot or Not?"

"According to your tastes, Hot."

"Did you run her?"

"Transferring footage now."

Stark reaches into his pocket and whips out the Stark Card, pulling up the holo-imagery and voila: Lois Lane in Stark Tower. "Lois Lane. Figured." Tony actually says this with a small smile on his face. "Jarvis? Reroute to her floor."

"As you wish, sir."

Tony looks over at Steve and just offers a slightly apologetic shrug. "You shoulda' brought your shield."

And ZOOM! The elevators wooshing off to Lois' floor without fail! ZOOM!

At least there are some places in New York that sell Cokes in glass bottles. Proper ones, too, with sugar instead of corn syrup. There's a few bottles in Steve's hand as they head up the elevator, and as he breathes in the scent of the pizza he smiles his approval. "It's going to be the only pizza I've had since then," he says. "But it smells great. Listen, about that file..."

He breaks off when he hears J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice, glancing up and around for a moment. He's not quite as unnerved as Thor might have been the first time he heard a computer voice, but it's still a brave new world for the old soldier. Leaning over to take a look at Lois's image on the Card, he glances between her picture and Tony. "Is this a name I should know? Wait. Snoop variety? She's a reporter? Tony, S.H.I.E.L.D. probably has their own plans about when they want to announce that I'm awake. You're not going to tell her who I am, are you?"

Locked. Why do they always LOCK the interesting doors? Lois reaches up to pull a bobby pin from her hair only to realize there is no key lock on the door. She grumbles, "Stupid fancy electric..." Bobby pin left in her dark auburn locks, Lois eyes the key pad briefly, then turns to look down the hall. "I wonder if just ay ol' card would work..."

"You know, if you wanted to know my deepest darkest secrets, Lois, you could've just asked. I am forever an open book to the Planet."

Tony Stark's voice rings out as he must've been in stealth mode to get his approach on from the other end of the all. Then again, the smell of the pizza is probably enough to alert everyone on this floor to his presence. And maybe even cause some stomach growling. But he's clearly making his presence known to keep Lois from trying to break into whatever room she's trying to break into this time. Luckily, J.A.R.V.I.S. is on it. Tony Stark just keeps his classic Stark Smile on his face.

And here comes Captain America. Well. Here comes the All-American boy, at any rate. Six foot two, blond, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, and would look perfectly at home either posing on a beach or hammering rivets thirty floors up a Manhattan skyscraper. At the moment, he's just wearing a plaid cotton button-up shirt over a white undershirt and blue jeans, earnest and unassuming. He smiles a little nervously at Lois, giving her a nod of greeting. "Luckily, there's an extra bottle of soda if you're interested in some pizza." Assuming the two boys don't eat the whole thing. They assuredly could.

At the sound of Tony's voice, Lois inwardly starts. Busted! That familiar prickle of adrenaline runs up her spine and ends with her very own Classic Lois smile, that reporter's smile. She turns to face Tony fully, violet eyes noting the pizza, the cokes, the Captain, and the Smile (TM).

"It's hard to ask you when I don't have your number," Lois retorts pleasantly, walking toward the pair, skirt suit swishing. Though the smile does get some attention it's that All-American boy that catches the reporter's attentions more than anything. A brow flickers as she works to keep from really oogling the man.

It's like... a blond Superman... in denim. Maybe the black hair is dye.... a lot of dye. Or a super power thing? Changes color when he... powers up? Like Sailor Moon (live action, not animated), only in reverse....

"I'd love to," she replies, moving to step between the two, catching their arms at the elbows with her own. "New friend, Tony? Didn't think 'masculine' was your type," she quips with a wink at Steve.

Tony Stark knows the reporters like Lois Lane all too well. And then there's the fact that J.A.R.V.I.S. has all kinds of information that's now being loaded onto the Stark Card and that's going to assist him with all this. But right now, though, he's got Lois between himself and his new friend and this is going to get very awkward, very soon.

"That's Steve. He's a Patriot." Tony takes a moment to look up and over at the Captain. "New England Patriot, actually. Kicker." Here's to hoping that Lois is not up on football rosters.

"The only reason you don't have my number, Lois, is because I can't ever get you alone to give it to you." He's still talking about the number, right? And yes, he knows that Steve is getting more ogle time than him. But he's okay with that. Really. "Will you be joining us for lunch to see what dirt you can dig up on Stark Enterprises?"

Steve has seen that look before. He saw it stateside, mostly, when doing the USO shows. Mostly from the ladies in the audience. Sometimes from the ladies in the cast. And then there was that girl -- well, the fact is that while Steve has certainly experienced That Look before, it still makes his ears glow red. The 'your type' comment zips over Steve's head like a Hail Mary pass, but he smiles at the lady regardless and extends a hand to shake hers. "Nice to meet you, Miss Lane. I think I've seen your articles. Is Tony here getting up to anything we should be worried about? I bet if anyone would know, it'd be you."

Tony clearly doesn't know Lois' family really well, for at the mention, Lois glances at Tony, then returns to oogling Steve. "What round did they draft you in, Steve," she asks the 'kicker' on her arm, not realizing the alternate meaning that could have to the WWII vet. She makes a mental note to thank her father, General Lane, for making her a tomboy and for being a Patriot's lover himself. Family dinners often consisted of the General grilling the girls to recite rosters, stats, all sorts of useless info about people the girls never cared about. She loves having an in with the sports loving billionaires.

Hand? Please! Lois slips past that hand to coil her arm at Steve's elbow, hand seeking to get a feel for his arm. His blush is so darling! It makes the femme reporter smile brightly. "Well, that depends. Is Tony up to anything the Planet should be worried about," she asks in reply, turning the question around at Stark with a squeeze of the hand she has on his elbow. Awkward? What awkward? I see no awkward here!

"Stark Enterprises, as you well know, only has the best interests of the world at heart. If you're referring to what what used to do here, you know that I refuse to even look in the direction of lethal weaponry." This is the same spiel that Tony gives every reporter that comes snooping around and looking to see if there's more to Stark Enterprises than meets the eye.

Tony is good with leading them away from locked doors and off towards a room where they can sit, eat, drink and be interrogated. Thus the setting down of the pizza to make sure it is still hot. And smelling oh so delicious. "But if you want to focus on Mr. Football over here, be my guest." And Tony's focusing his attention on getting him some delicious pizza to chow down! Slice Number One!

"Tony's just trying to make my life a little easier," Steve says, clearing his throat. "The truth is, I'm a soldier. I was MIA for a while and I'm just now back. But it isn't something I'm prepared to talk about just now, if it's all the same to you. Thanks." He opens one of the soda bottles and offers it to her with a smile, adding: "Tony, are there glasses and ice around? And what *is* Stark Enterprises up to lately? Is the flying car yours, or did someone else make that?"

Tony's stalk answer doesn't surprise her, for as she follows the pair (while staying latched to Steve's arm), her gaze is given to Tony for his inspection. "Glad to hear it, Mr. Stark. Are you buddies with either Worthington or Luthor, or are possibly considering any sort of motion in their general direction," she asks of the playboy. Clearly, this topic is far more interesting that what lies behind door number seven. It seems as if depending on the answer, Lois's attention might just turn back to Tony uncomfortably and fully.

When the soldier speaks, Lois turns her attention back to him, the 'work mode smile' a little slow to fade. "A soldier? Really? Army or Marines, I'd guess by the feel of your arm," she quips with a grin and a wink for the Man Out of Time. "And don't worry, Soldier. I'm not here for you right now. But, if you ever do want to give me that story, whenever you're ready... let me know." She takes the soda bottle, offering a business card from her purse in exchange. To the flying car comment, Lois's brows lift and her violet eyes return to Tony, filled with curiousity. DID Tony invent the flying car?

"Oh, don't you know, all of my corporate spies have been caught red handed. Darn. Unfortunately, that means I don't have any information about what Luthor or Worthington may be doing behind their closed and locked doors." The amount of sarcasm that's attached to that statement is clearly evident as the look on Tony's face is slightly annoyed but then the chewing of the pizza is what brings him back into some bit of happiness. Mmmmmm.

At the mention of the flying car, Tony's turning his attention back to the others. "Soda me." Tony's hand goes up to catch any incoming bottles that Steve may throw his way. "i take my projects very seriously and very personally. If you're somehow insinuating that I don't design, build and create every project within these walls with my own two hands... this impromptu interview is likely to take an unwanted dark turn." Tony's serious face is not one people see often. But there it is.

Don't mess with Stark's work, dammit.

"That'd be Army, ma'am." Steve lobs a soda Tony's way, making himself comfortable and opening the pizza box. He's going to have a slice even if nobody else is. Opening another bottle and offering it to Lois. "Maybe some other time. Thanks all the same." He goes quiet then, though he turns a briefly questioning glance to Tony. Worthington? Luthor? The latter name rings a tiny bell somewhere in his head, but neither means much to him. Still: "Mister Stark doesn't strike me so much as someone who collaborates that often with anyone. Am I wrong?"

Lois eyes Tony's sarcasm with grit and determination, but then she nods, smiling and ready to turn her full attentions back to Steve when Tony goes all uber serious about the flying car. "I'm not insinuating anything of the certain, Mr. Stark. I was honestly curious. I don't typically write the technology sector unless there's a seedy underbelly to the creator. You've cleaned up Stark Enterprises, well and good. Everyone's seen it, and I for one am more than a little impressed by the feat. This world would be an amazing place if every company could accomplish even a quarter of what you have. It's inspiring," Lois says very seriously and very truthfully to the Iron Man munching on pizza who's interrupted by a phone call from Jarvis.

Leaving that sore topic, Lois settles into a chair at the soldier's side, takes the open soda from him with a smile. Her hand moves for a slice. She was invited after all. "Anytime you like. There's to pressure. So, as much as I'd love to know what division and what not, I'll try to refrain from peppering you with any questions about that. It's going to be hard though, cause I'm a military brat, but I'll try." She winks and takes her first bite. Around the small mouthful Lois mmms, smiling, and quips, "Damn, this is good pie."

Something in what Lois says -- or possibly how she says it -- brings a frown to Steve's face. "Cleaned up Stark Enterprises?" he inquires. "I didn't realize there was anything to clean up. I'm aware they were a military contractor, but maybe I just don't follow the news well enough." As he chows down on the pizza, he adds to Tony with appreciation: "You weren't kidding. This is really good." Settling in, he winces as Tony picks up his phone and looks toward Lois with an amused smile: "You're a military brat, eh? Your father was in the service, I assume?"

She nods about the clean up comment. "The weapons I mean. Dure, loads of people in the Service were a little sore about it, but.. well, having a mind like Stark's focusing on something other than the best way to blow someone up is a very good thing, in my book," she replies, moving to take another bite of pizza when the first is finished. "Is. Career officer, US Army, General Lane," she replies with that clipped sort of Yes, I'm From a Military Family and have said this about a million times, to the General himself until he was absolutely happy with the formality and respect in her tone. It even comes with that unconscious sort of straigthen of her back that, given the amount of practice and drills that comes with such things, will probably never fade.

The soldier nods slowly, munching on his pizza and apparently quite avidly enjoying it. When he hears that Lois's father is a general, he blinks in some surprise. That could be tricky. The average person on the street and the average soldier might not know Steve Rogers's name, but a general? He just might. "It's a little hard being a general's daughter, isn't it? I know being an officer's wife is a full time job, and I have no doubt there's some of that in being any close member of his family. Did you move around a lot?" Hey, who's giving this interview anyway?

Apparently, Steve Rogers has taken control of this interview. That, or Lois is reverse interviewing him... Very Tasha of her if she is! She takes another bite and finishes it before moving for a soda. Mouth clear, the reporter answers warmly, as if completely unaware of the possible 'being interviewedness' of the situation.

"We did when I was younger. When spent time all over the world, but when I went off to college I never looked back. Metropolis is home now and I'm very loathe to leave it for just any old reason. As for the job...." Lois waves it away faintly. "He's doing something a little more hush-hush that usual. He doesn't talk about it. I know better than to ask about it. If he wants it splashed on the media, he knows where to go." She pauses for another bite.

"We see each on Thanksgiving," she adds, glancing at Steve with a faint bit of 'how the hell did HE get me to open up so quickly?' in her eyes.

One piece of pizza down. The rest of a pizza to go, and Steve will be all too glad to work on it. "But you're a reporter," he puts in. "You go all over Metropolis, at least, and here you are in New York. You don't want to be one of those international reporters? Going overseas, even behind enemy lines to get your story?" Steve flashes a brief grin. "You seem like that kind of person to me. Dedicated. Uncompromising." His lips twitch a little as she mentions her father is up to something, but he just shrugs and replies: "I'd say you'd probably be happier without knowing, but you *are* a reporter."

Right. That's how! By being utterly disarming, yet forward and strong all at once. It stirs a little flutter in her heartrate, evidenced by the tiniest of rosing to her cheeks. "Yes, true, but no, I don't want to be one of those. I've jet setted enough, and I still do travel more than I'd really like. I'ma reporter, so I'll follow my story but... I like having a home base to get back to, you know?" He called her dedicated and uncompromising! The blush deepens just a little bit more.

He does have that calm, easy manner. Easy to talk to. Easy to like. Easy to make friends with. Though it still boggles him how women seem to find him appealing. He's not *trying* to be a heartbreaker. "Tell me about Metropolis. I never really spent any time there," Steve says, snagging another piece of the pizza and taking a quick swig of his soda. "Is there any other place you ended up that you would've been glad to stay?"

Her hand lowers a bit as those blue eyes peer at her. So calm. So much like a certain other All-American boy she knows, with that down-to-Earth feel of Kent. It's... weird... a good weird. Lois tucks a lock of hair behind an ear with a pinkie, murmuring, "Here's looking pretty good." Ah! Silly girl! Don't blush. Regaining herself, Lois smiles again. "Ah, well. It's hard to put into words, really. It's bright, airy, beautiful. I could show you around some time, if you like," she offers.

Oh. Oh boy. "I might make my way down there sometime. Still getting settled here in New York," Steve says quickly, glancing away with a brief smile. "And you work for... the Daily Planet, right? From what you were saying to Tony, it sounds like you deal with stories about corporations, maybe corporations and government. Corruption and conspiracies and secret deals. Something like that?"

Make ...his...way...down... oh my! Lois's thoughts are definitely NOT as squeaky clean as the menfolk she typically swoons over are. His glance away rekindles that blush, as if her mere thought of it embarassed him. It's darling and infuriating all at once. The infuriating, that reaction Kent's simple rural world view, wins a little ground, and Lois smirks.

"I'm the best damn reporter the Planet has," she states boldly, bringing the pizza up to take a bite. "They do make the best stories, and I know that that usually makes me suspect, especially to the CEOs of the world, but I figure, there's only a need to worry if there's something to hide, you know?" She winks. "It's called Investigative Reporting. ANd I'm damn good at it."

Rest assured, it would take Steve a few elbows and winks to get the innuendo. It sure doesn't look like he meant anything more than... well, 'make my way down there'. He grins as she speaks with pride about the Planet, enjoying a bit more pizza and cleaning his face of the grease. "Sounds like you're pleased to be working there. They must be glad to have you. Something about the way you talk about the Planet -- were they the first paper you worked for? I can see Lois Lane, cub reporter, camping out in front of the editor's office and demanding he hire her."

That obliviousness is just so Clark/Superman! It's a sweet contradiction happening at the same time made nicer by that forward grin and easily given compliments from the Captain. "Post graduate, yes. And they came to me. I was writing for the student paper, and uncovered a few gems in the education system. Mr. White liked what he read and tapped me to go to the Planet after graduation. He featured a few of my articles and paid me freelance until I could move out there permenantly," she says, quite glowing with pride. "I have never 'camped'," she adds, finding a napkin to clean fingers and mouth.

"Then I apologize for the implication that you ever had to camp," Steve replies with a chuckle. "So -- graduated from college, went straight to the Daily Planet, and stayed there ever since. That is some impressive loyalty: lots of people would have moved on to more lucrative locales. I understand newspapers aren't exactly the go-to place for journalism, with the Planet being an obvious exception. Not interested in TV news? Magazines?"

Lois just gives Steve a wink, a warm indication that the implication didn't rattle this broad one bit. She nods, reaching for her soda. "The Planet's the best paper in the world. Insists on the best news, investigated the best reporters, written by the best people. I won't do it otherwise," she says firmly, tilting the opening of her bottle toward him. "And TV? Yick! Then I'd have to obsess over my hair, my makeup, my weight... No, thank you! I have real work to do than fuss with silly material things like that day in and day out. As for magazines? Isn't that just a step up from tabloid stupidity?"

"So the truth and integrity and good reporting... those are worth more to you than money." Steve nods his approval, taking another swig from his ever-decreasing Coke. "There's not a lot of people like that around anymore, but it sounds like you take some real pride in your work. What else do you do, if you don't mind my asking? Does the famous and dangerous Lois Lane have any hobbies?"

To the three pillars, Lois nods, smiling proudly and not fighting that blush in the slightest any more. God! He's dreamy. She too drinks from her sofa, eyes glancign down at the label, as if finally realizing this is a throw-back. She smiles at it, remembering the flavor from her youth.

She looks back up to Steve, shaking her head lightly. "I don't mind, but the answer might be a little sad," she admits, surprising herself with this level of honesty. It's just...so hard... to NOT talk to him!

A guy who listens to what you say and responds to it like he's listening and not ogling you? Stunning! Unprecedented! And in the same room -- and apparently friends with -- Tony Stark! Steve leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "If you say your hobby is interviewing random people and reading the news, I'm going to agree that's a little sad."

Lois laughs, rolling her eyes at that. The undivided, non-hostile, non-wary, non-flustered attention brings another faint pink to her cheeks. "I watch TV," she admits, adverting her violet eyes and bringing her drink to her lips as she half-murmurs that. maybe he didn't hear her?

"You watch TV?" This is considered by Steve, who nods slowly and tilts his head with a smile. "Well, you probably need to unwind after work. Something that doesn't make your brain work too hard. Anything else? Photography, reading, cooking, knitting, auto repair...? Or is being an investigative reporter your whole life?"

"Yes, I 'watch TV'," Lois retorts, head bobbing faintly at the soldier. She's grinning, returning that smile warmly. This has GOT to be the longest conversation she's had with a guy about not-work-stuff she's had since her date with Warren.

"Well, the photography and reading are very work related, so I decline comment about those activities for work reasons. And Cooking? Knitting?" She laughs, waving those items away, "What do I look like? Susy Homemaker 1953?"

It's Steve's turn to go a little red, which he hides not very effectively behind finishing off his soda. "Perfectly respectable hobbies for anyone," he says a little defensively. "Even I cook. Sometimes. Is there anything wrong with hobbies like that? The top chefs are men. Knitting used to be a male profession. And given that we eat food and wear scarves I don't think there's anything bad about either one."

Oh ho! Man knows his artisian history. Lois leans forward at that, loving the light mental spar. "Yes, but I'm a career woman. You want cooking from me, it needs to come in a icrowaveable tray and be ready in 90 seconds." She winks at that, knowing she's not really making any sort of harsh point. "I'm not saying there's anything WRONG with those things as hobbies. I just.. well," she laughs now. "I just suck at them?"

Steve chuckles in return, raising his hands in apparent surrender. "Touche. I yield, et cetera." He glances back over at Tony, speaking softly and adding: "It looks like that phone call might take him a while. Maybe you want to schedule an appointment with him for later? Not that I'm trying to run you off..."

"...But I'm probably about to over stay my welcome," Lois finishes with a smile. "And I should probably rescue Dr. McCoy from my partner," she adds as she gets to her feet. "I sort of... dumped them on each other to poke around." teehee.

"Well, then: best wishes, Miss Lane," Steve replies. He rises as well, extending a hand to shake hers. "I'm sure we'll run into each other again. Till then, good luck with your investigations."

Lois returns the handshake with a self-assured confidence classic of the modern day woman. "I look forward to it, Mr. Rogers," she replies, a winning smile on her face. She pauses briefly, then collects her purse fully, glancing at Tony. And she STILL didn't get his number! Dagnabbit! She shakes her head to herself, gives Steve a wave, and turns to make her way back to the cafeteria. JARVIS is able to report that the snoopy visitor does not detour or look down unneeded hallways to get to her destination. This is Lois Lane, playing good, so she can get a return invite.