RIDICULE
One minute I'm on the fast track of my dream career as a intrepid reporter and then I blink and the next thing I know I'm this underqualified shrink for meteor infected kids who would probably wake up to be psycho killers while Lois and Clark are walking the beat with matching press passes together.
"GAH! I give up," a frustrated Chloe stated when she couldn't focus on heads or tails of her patients reports. And even with Brainiac in her system. Maybe her methods would work if she wasn't so technical.
A good friend as Oliver was, he was no help.
...drive a dagger into your corset.
I'm a writer. If I wanted to commit suicide I would write one hell of a suicide note.
Chloe knew why she was a reporter, why she just couldn't seem to give up on her journalistic curiousity. One of the reasons was her interest in truth and justice. And when the stones kept being thrown your way you knew you made a mark.
Chloe: I've already started getting hate mail.
Clark: You seem very happy about that, why?
Chloe: Because it means I'm hitting a nerve
As much as she loved Lois, she was supposed to be mentoring Clark...and Lois. She was the sensei . She was born with a pen in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Every story most likely meant death or just some angry citizens who more than likely wanted to hide something but at least she fought for integrity. She knew she felt short sometimes but was always able to pull herself back up.
You're one hell of a writer
Davis had never seen her in action yet he admitted she was something special. She smiled and shrugged off that time of her life as being such a long time ago.
in a Smallville far far away
Sylvester Pemberton had visited her, only to be killed by someone with the power to control ice. She enlisted Oliver's help to find out more about these guys.
By we, you mean me. Right?
It felt good investigating again.