The Sparrow was Clark's favorite bar, but, Lois realized, she had no idea why. They had good beer on tap, but Clark never ordered the beer. The bartender—a voluptuous woman who flirted shamelessly with any man over six foot—was nice enough if one could get her to stop flirting long enough to have a conversation, but Clark tended to avoid her if at all possible. Maybe it was the location—only a few blocks from the international airport and its constant flow of people and taxis—but Lois didn't see how that would make Clark favor the Sparrow above all other bars in Metropolis.
Maybe it was the lack of a parking lot, Lois thought to herself, smirking. It forces most of the drunks to hail cabs—all but the very early ones and the very stubborn ones.
Lois was one of the stubborn ones and had claimed a curb spot for herself, jamming the meter full of quarters before she'd gone inside.
It was an average bar, really. Smallish, a bar at the back with alcohol behind the counter and stools on the other side. There was a broken karaoke machine in one corner—the radio was simply always left running for background noise. There were booths along the left wall, and tables through the rest of the room, a wall of windows on the right wall with a view of the street. There was a menu and a day-shift cook; Lois would never admit it to Clark, but she favored the Sparrow's mozzarella sticks over most other restaurants'.
"So, where's your friend?" the bartender asked, cleaning the counter with a grayed rag and looking as if she'd stepped out of any Law & Order episode ever set in a bar.
"What?" Lois raised an eyebrow and waited while the woman on the other side of the bar refilled her shot glass.
"The tall, quiet one you always come in with. You've been here for hours and there's no sign of him."
"He's out of town."
The bartender wisely moved down the counter at the look Lois gave her, refilling the only other patron's glass from the same bottle Lois had had her shot. The glare wasn't enough to keep the man at the other end of the bar away, though. After a last suave smile at the bartender, he stood and walked over to Lois, taking the stool next to her.
Lois looked him over. He was tall, probably just meeting the bartender's six foot flirt mark, with smooth brown hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a nice suit, brown with a teal tie that set off his eyes. It made Lois' gut hurt a little to look at him; he reminded her of Clark just enough that she almost wanted to laugh. She'd gone to the Sparrow in the insane hope that she'd find him, even though he'd quit the Planet and the city a full week previously.
"Hi," the better dressed version of Clark said, sending her the same suave smile he'd used on the bartender. "I'm Richard White."
What she'd meant to be a one night stand had turned into a five-year relationship, a three-year prolonged engagement. Perry had assigned Richard to be her watchdog while she globe-trotted for almost six months in search of Superman and/or Clark Kent. She asked after both everywhere she went, half expecting to run into Clark at an airport or something, but it hadn't happened.