"You better hurry up Sullivan," Steph advised.
Chloe had barely sat down when the redhead approached, her eyes wide and dramatic.
"Hurry up with what? I'm not late, in fact I'm early today," Chloe rebutted.
"Save it for the editor. I don't know what crawled up his hole and died, but the man is on the warpath this morning." Steph's curls bounced as she shook her head.
Gwen approached the twosome, leaning in conspiratorially. "Less of an 'up and died' and more of a 'packed and left', the way I hear it. Rumor is his wife met him at the door while the movers were putting her things in a van."
Steph gasped in scandalous delight. "No. Way. Don't get me wrong, I'd leave him too, but that's so juicy."
Chloe bared a small smile for their drama, but two things she knew for sure – one, Gwen's gossip was never wrong; and two, their elder scribe had been handling his fair share of late hours.
"Back to basics though. He wants you in his office ASAP, Chloe," Steph remembered.
"Here's hoping he's not looking for a new bride just yet," Gwen crossed her fingers jokingly as Chloe maneuvered the bullpen to get to her advisor's corner office.
Knocking hesitantly on the wooden door she caught herself staring at the brass nameplate and smiling. Someday it would be her own moniker engraved up there, she promised.
"That'd better be Sullivan," a voice barked out from behind the barrier. She shook herself out of her reverie. "And you'd better quit dilly-dallying!"
She squeaked the door open and let herself in.
"It's me, sorry," she apologized, taking the seat across from him.
"Sometimes I wonder what happened to you," he wondered aloud.
"I don't know what you mean." Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"You used to have drive! And spunk."
"I have drive," she declared.
"You're late almost as often as you're on time," he chastised her.
"That's... not untrue," she admitted. "But I always stay late and make it up. I'll do the stories no one else wants, too."
"See? That's what I mean. No drive! Everyone else around here, they get the math. They know what stories will get them ahead. They get plum pickings and you keep on writing twice the articles for half the fame."
"I"m just working with what I'm given," she told him. "I'd love a chance to tackle a bigger article. You know I'd do you proud."
He sighed and studied her, as if puzzled by something. "The idea behind tackling something isn't that someone hands it to you. If you want a story, go out and get it."
"I don't expect to be handed anything," her eyes flashed in offense. "I've proved my worth here on more than one occasion."
"Which is exactly why I hired you," he gestured widely with his hands. "But you can't swim a triathlon in the kiddie pool. You want a headline, you find it. Look, you had a certain spark when I brought you in here, but somewhere along the way you turned into just another minnow swimming with the pack. If you want to survive off basement obituaries for the rest of your life, that's your choice. Otherwise, maybe take a note from your cousin Lane and get your hands dirty for a change."
She opened her mouth in outrage when he waved her towards the door.
"You're dismissed Sullivan." His eyes had already dropped back to his desk, ignoring the ire of his reporter.
The door closed behind her with a snap.
'A minnow?' she thought incredulously. 'I am not a minnow! I am, I am... I'm not a fish, dammit! I'm a good reporter and I don't need to be Lois to pull it off!' She sighed. 'Maybe with Clark leaving for his training I can remind my boss of that fact.'
Her eyes were glazed over as she tried to hide her fury. Stalking back towards her desk she suddenly bumped into someone, papers floating to the ground.
"Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I wasn't even looking," she babbled as she reached for the flying leaflets. Upon closer inspection, the pieces weren't just paper. They were photographs.
"Hey, Chloe. Don't worry about it. You're always distracted."
The voice made her head shoot up in recognition. "Jimmy?"
"Yeah." His boyish smile flashed back at her. "You're still holding some of my photos." He motioned the papers viced in her hand.
"Right, of course," she said flustered, returning them to their owner. They stood up from their crouched positions. "What are you doing here? I thought you were..."
"In Florida? Turns out permanent spring break isn't all it's cracked up to be," he made a face. "That wasn't really the kind of reporting I was wanting."
Her eyes sparkled teasingly. "Sounds like any man's dream job," she joked.
"You'd think, but it gets old really fast. And hot. And they have alligators, too." He pinched his mouth closed.
She laughed a little, if partially to ease her nerves. His return had definitely taken her off guard, and she couldn't deny the southern sun had done him some good. "Welcome back then, Jimmy."
"Thanks. It's good to be back. The regular hustle and bustle."
She stepped to his side. "I'll see you around then, I assume." She started to walk past him when he spoke up.
"Yeah. Hey, Chloe?"
"Yeah?" she turned her head around. His eyes seemed conflicted.
"Think sometime you'd want to catch a movie or something?" the hopeful tone of his voice wasn't lost on her. His hands fidgeted with his messenger bag, waiting for her response.
She paused and bit her lip. "I don't know..." she hedged uncertainly.
"Or we could do something else," he quickly interjected. "Dinner or coffee...?"
She looked straight at him. "I just don't know."
He looked a little downcast at her hesitance. "It is a lot to process so fast."
"I mean, maybe... I think we should just take some time. I have some changes going on in my life and you need to settle in again," she ticked off the reasons.
"Yeah, sure. We'll just wait a little and see where life takes us," Jimmy nodded.
"Exactly." She looked relieved.
"I'll see you soon then, Chloe," he watched her.
"You too Jimmy."
His eyes followed her till she found her desk again. He had a feeling he'd be spending a lot of time in this bullpen.
