3179/Anonymous sources

Anonymous sources
Date of Scene:	31 August 2020
Location:	Bullpen - Daily Planet Building
Synopsis:	Clark gives Mary an assignment and a lift.
Cast of Characters:	Clark Kent, Mary Bromfield

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Clark Kent has posed:
Although he's a reporter, not an editor, Clark Kent's intern-wrangling duties include making sure that they occasionally get a credit in print to build up their résumés. To that end, he has grabbed several stories from the city desk that need additional sources, extra details, or bystander perspectives, and has been assigning interns to run those details down for a "with contributions by" credit. He has worked about halfway through the stack, and is now heading over to where Mary Bromfield is seated.

"Afternoon, Mary," he greets her in his habitual friendly way. "Herb is working on a story he could use some help with." He takes a small packet of stapled sheets and slides it over to her. It's a follow-up on the recent Doom Blimp attack, strongly featuring police and superhero-expert perspectives on what the Latverian dictator was trying to accomplish with his blimp full of drones, basic profiles of the heroes who opposed him, and some technical details about the property damage caused.

"What we're really looking for are reaction quotes from people who witnessed the attack, and if possible, get them to speculate on some of the details, like: where did the blimp end up?" The reporter bumps his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one bent thumb, then finishes, "What do you think? You'll see your name in print if you can run it all down by this evening."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary blinks up at Clark, and smiles, "Wow, really? Yeah, I could definitely do some following up on what happened there. Wasn't it the Titans and Power Girl that stopped him from doing... well, whatever Doom was up to?" She hrms a bit, looking thoughtful as she nods.

"I can go to that neighborhood and see if I can find some people willing to give quotes, plus I'm sure some of the locals have Damage Control accounts, I might be able to get some words in with the local office there too." She wrinkles her nose, "Though, from what I heard, it seems like Doom was just trying to 'beta test' his new toys. Hmph." Maybe not exactly an unbiased reporter, but Mary's face pretty much indicates what she thinks of that, anyway.

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark nods and points at the story Mary is holding. "Yep, that's who showed up. As for what he was up to?" He waggles one hand, wearing a look of perplexity. "I've interviewed a few world leaders, but never Doom, and even people who have studied him for decades can never be quite sure what he's up to. Fortunately, we just need the perspectives of ordinary Metropolitans." He gives the intern an encouraging smile.

"Mostly it's just a little bit of shoe-leather journalism, like you said: go out there and talk to people." He tilts his head to the side and then nods slowly as he continues, "The Damage Control angle is a great thought, though. We've got estimates from the city about the costs, but getting folks who deal with this sort of thing frequently to compare it to other attacks could be a really great way to help the reader understand it better than just a dollar amount."

He catches her tone and smiles, not even suggesting that she shouldn't be annoyed at the flippant way Doom attacked. Some biases in a newspaper reporter are bad; being proud and protective about your city isn't one of them. If anything, it'll help her relate to readers and the people she interviews. "Just be sure you can get it all in by tonight, OK? No deadline, no byline."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary nods, "You bet, Mister Kent, I'll get right on that." She grins cheerfully, grabbing her backpack, "Though yeah, I think I'm going to need to hit the area right away to make the deadline. Hit up some of the local coffeeshops and other businesses, which should also get me an idea of who they deal with at Damage Control..." She trails off, obviously thinking about how to investigate it properly as she stands up, grabbing a few things off her desk and locking up the computer for the time being.

"And yeah, people need to know what the real cost of what happens when people like Doom or... well, when they just think they're more important than everyone else." She seems to catch herself on something there, then coughs, "Anywho, time to do some good old fashioned interviews." Her lips quirk a bit, as she looks the part of an unassuming college student, rather than your stereotypical 'nosy reporter' that might not get the time of day.

Clark Kent has posed:
"Great!" Clark says with a grin. "Actually, do you need a ride down there? I'm headed to a building just a block or two over to do some follow-up interviews for my own story." He fishes his keys out of his hip pocket, tosses them cavalierly into the air, then manages to bop them with his knuckles instead of catching them, knocking them straight to the floor in a clamor of metallic noises.

"Oh, drat," he says, stooping to grab them. "I'm, uh... I'm better at driving than I am at catch, promise. Have you done many man-on-the-street interviews, Mary?" It takes him just a second to have the key ring back in his hand, and then he's straightening up and heading for the elevators. "It's pretty easy, but it's great practice getting people to open up to you."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary follows along with Clark, "A ride would be swell, thanks! Definitely can save some time at least." She pauses, shifting the weight of her backpack a bit, "Though I haven't done too many interviews like that, I mean... I've done a few, but normally with just fellow students at the school paper and stuff, not like just doing man on the street like this." She smiles cheerfully, "One of these days I will learn to drive, but... well, between the Hyperloop and everything I need being in Metropolis or New York, there's not much of a need, you know?"

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark laughs as he enters the elevator and pushes the button for the parking deck. "I know exactly what you mean, as a matter of fact. Now, I learned to drive early. Out in Kansas, everything was far apart, and the public transit was, well, not great. But out there, I could just borrow my dad's truck, so what took me ages was buying my own car."

He gives a small, nostalgic smile, and continues, "It didn't really become an issue until I was going overseas for stories and needed to get to the airport regularly. Lois got pretty sick of me asking to bum a ride and eventually just took me car shopping. It was part surprise party, part intervention."

As for interviews, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and gives a big shrug, exaggerated a bit by his department-store blazer. "This might come as a shock, but I'm not naturally an extrovert. Starting up interviews with random strangers -- different ages, races, classes -- it's a great way to learn to talk to people you can't automatically relate to. It's a lot different than just talking to your classmates, for sure."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary nods, "So how do you do it? I mean, working the past couple years as a barista, I got a feel for customers when they came in. If they wanted to talk, if they just wanted their coffee, what they needed..." She chuckles, "And yeah, me too. I'd much rather do some streaming with people or spend quality time with Marie or some other friends than go out and party or something."

She grins a bit, "Yeah, see, I grew up in Philly before the family moved to New York, so I never really worried about a license. Public transit was all we needed, though I guess sometime I should learn how to drive, since... well, racing games don't count, I'm pretty sure." She laughs a little at that.

Clark Kent has posed:
With another laugh, Clark bobs on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, they don't give you blue shells when you're stuck at the back of a traffic jam, for one thing," he says, amused. "Also, in real life? You have to let up on the accelerator, sometimes. Pro tip: the driving test will be really tough if you forget that part."

Clark nods his head at her comment about being from Philly; he's perpetually the country mouse, around here, and has pretty much gotten used to it by now. "I think the trickiest adjustment is learning to ignore that instinct. If someone just wants their coffee, you've still got to ask them questions, sometimes forcefully. The powerful people who don't want to be held to account /always/ just want their coffee. It's awkward at first, but it's a really important skill." He huffs out a little chuckle, then adds, "Which is not to say you need to hound people you ask questions on the street. 'Hi, I'm doing interviews for the Daily Planet,' should cover it. They'll either treat you like Greenpeace or be really eager to tell their story." He raises one eyebrow. "If anything, you've got to watch out for the eager ones. Sometimes they'll talk your ear off without ever giving you anything you can actually use."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary gets a bit of a look at that, and lowers her voice, "Like, whoa, babe, you're super cute, what're you doing after work..." Then she coughs, returning to her normal tone, "Yeah, haven't heard that oh, about a million times before." She gives Clark a wry look, "Letting them down easy is something I've gotten a fair amount of practice with."

She smiles, "Though that's a bummer about the blue shells, though... those things are the only things that let me compete with my little brothers. I am absolutely horrible with racing games." She does nod at the sage advice about interviewing, listening intently and taking mental notes.

Clark Kent has posed:
The elevator dings and the doors open; it's a left turn and a short walk to the parking deck. "Oh! Oh, geez. I wasn't even talking about /that/..." Clark says, blushing and baring his teeth in a deep, uncomfortable grimace. "I just meant, like, lonely little old ladies who want to talk your ear off and reminisce about their youth and pat your arm and tell you what a fine upstanding young gen...tle...man..."

Clark's brows lower and inch together behind the frames of his glasses as it suddenly occurs to him that maybe they /aren't/ talking about such entirely different things after all. He props open the door into the parking deck, letting Mary go on ahead of him, and ponders a lot of awkward interviews over the years that have suddenly gotten a lot more awkward.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary grins back at Clark, walking ahead a little bit... then she pauses, as she has no idea /what/ Clark drives. So she waits for him, "Well, not /just/ that, but yeah, there's the people that want to give you their life story and it's... well, I appreciate that, and I'd really love to listen, but there's also about a dozen people behind you that ALSO need their coffee." She chuckles, "Don't worry Mister Kent, I'm sure it wasn't anything like THAT." She is, however, blushing a bit as Clark blushes. Fortunately no one else is here to see it!

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark notices Mary's pause, snaps his fingers quietly, and goes, 'oh!' before getting his keys out of his pocket and tapping the unlock button. There's a little chirp and the lights on a nondescript silver Civic blink twice. "That's me," he says, heading over to pop open the door and get into the small car. It's about a decade old but in remarkably neat condition; it doesn't seem to get driven around all that much. "So, any preference on the music, Mary?" he asks. "I don't know what kids these days listen to, but I've got Spotify. I think there's a dubstep channel." He smiles gently as he fiddles with his phone -- he's clearly kidding.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary laughs, "Wub wub wub... yeah, no thanks on that. Well, I /do/ know the rules of the road, driver's choice. I'm good with just about anything, honestly." She grins cheerfully, easily settling into the passenger seat and, of course, buckling up. "Nice car, I like it. Seems perfect for the city."

She glances around curiously, as you can figure out a fair amount of a person from their car, and while Clark has talked about similar interests as Mary in the role playing sense... she hasn't really seen much of him outside of work proper.

Clark Kent has posed:
"If you say so," Clark answers, tapping away at his phone to pull up some tunes. Clark is just as punctilious as Mary about buckling up and getting the music squared away before he shifts out of park. The song that starts is, of all things, an older indie rock gem: a classic Arcade Fire track, played at a quite low volume.

"It gets me around, which is all I can really ask," he comments, tapping the steering wheel fondly as they reverse out of the parking space. The car is neat enough that it almost seems like a rental, and there are relatively few miles on the odometer, for the car's age. There is a photo tucked into the dash, of an older couple on a large porch, wearing practical plaids and blue jeans.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary grins at the photo, "Oh, those are your parents?" She looks over at Clark, "That has got to be weird, I mean... well, it's weird to me, I can't even imagine what it'd be like /not/ to live in the city. Though, there's definitely something appealing about the quiet. At least, it seems like it'd be quiet..."

She hmms, "Well, maybe I'll take the time to learn how to drive at some point. Seems like a handy thing to know, since... not everyplace has a Hyperloop." She does nod a bit, approving of the music choice if nothing else.

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark accelerates steadily out of the parking deck, driving cautiously. He wears a nostalgic smile as he answers Mary's questions about his upbringing. "Yep, that's Ma and Pa. Martha and Jonathan Kent, of Smallville, Kansas. It's not as strange as you might think," he says, adopting a slightly teasing tone. "It's literally quieter, sure: not as many cars or airplanes, not as many people. But there's a plenty to do. Feeding the animals, tending the crops, schoolwork, and of course the sacrifices to appease the blood thirst of the corn gods."

He flashes a big, silly grin as the car coasts down the angled pavement of the parking deck toward the ground floor. "Honestly, one of the things it took me a while to get used to is how much more carefully you have to drive in the city. Out in Kansas you can get on a straightaway and just floor it if you want." It's hard to square that description with Clark's current driving, which is just as cautious as you would expect from his general manner. Whatever his driving habits at home, he seems to have no difficulty suppressing them in the city. "If I can give you some advice, don't have Lois teach you," he tells Mary. "She drives here like I drive in Kansas."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary laughs, "I have five younger siblings in my foster home, what is this 'quiet' you speak of?" She gives Clark a wry look, "Honestly, if it was that quiet I'd probably go a little crazy just because it would be so /weird/. Though, hmm, are the sacrifices of the corn gods different than the cheesesteak gods? Because in Philly we take that /very/ seriously." She flashes Clark a silly grin right back.

She hmms, not minding the cautious driving as she says, "Okay, don't have Lois teach me, got it. Though I think I'm probably a bit too cautious of a driver for her tastes anyway, or I would be. Being the Den Mother for the sibs is pretty ingrained at this point." She might have the aggressive instincts of a Lois in the reporting sense, but she tends to temper it more with her empathy.

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark chuckles, lifts one hand, and snaps his fingers. "That must be it. Kansas isn't that quiet after all, I'm just an only child." As he says this, the song ends and the next begins. It's just the next song on the album. Apparently he's one of those /album/ guys.

"If you stick with journalism, I'd be surprised if you don't end up in the Midwest at some point. Papers out here are always trying to figure out the Midwestern psyche, like we're some kind of lost civilization they have to send anthropologists to study." He breathes out a little good-natured laughter at this, obviously less offended than some might be. He pulls down his window and stops at the booth, waving to the attendant and unhooking his permit from the rearview mirror. "Afternoon, Carla!"

"Afternoon, Mr. Kent!" she replies, scanning the permit. "Actually taking her out for a spin today?"

"Yep! Going to chase down some leads, and get Mary here to some interviews. How are the kids?"

Carla rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively, laughing. Teenagers, then.

Clark rolls the window back up as he rolls under the turnstile, looks both ways, and then moves into traffic.

"So, I guess I've got to ask: Pat's or Geno's?" Clark asks with a sidelong glance. "I've been to Philly a couple of times, but I'll let you go before I say the wrong thing and get in trouble."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary grins, "Look, it's really personal preference. Me, I'm a traditionalist, and I like the chopped steak of Pat's. But there's nothing wrong with getting it sliced... though Freddy vehemently disagrees." She laughs, "Now, to get into true dogmatic problems, start wanting real cheese and not cheese wiz on the cheesesteak. That can get /ugly/."

She then glances over at Clark, "Though, I should mention that I'm getting my degree in journalism, not archaeology, so I don't know how often I'll go to Kansas." She winks, then adds, "Really though, I think it's a bit overrated, the differences that is. People tend to be people, regardless of where they are, you know?" She waves at Carla cheerfully as they go past the booth.

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark snorts out a laugh. "That's very fair of you, I must say. Still, when I do go back to Kansas, I'm just not going to tell the cows about Cheese Wiz. I think they'd be deeply hurt. You can see it in their eyes, sometimes."

Traffic is light, as it's past lunch hour, so they make good time through the city. "You're right about people, though. Metropolis forces more of a rush, maybe gives you more stress, but deep down the people are just getting along the best they can. I think that's true across states, countries -- heck, I'd say even planets. We're all prone to the same mistakes, and we're all capable of doing a lot of good."

He glances over with raised eyebrows, then, and chuckles once more. "If you think you won't be headed to Kansas, or Iowa, or somewhere like that, just you wait. It's an election year. The thinkpieces... Good Lord, the thinkpieces..."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary laughs, "Well, I'd love to go someplace different. I wouldn't think an intern would be bounced along on a trip to Iowa or Kansas, though. I mean, you or Lois, sure." She shrugs, "But I think there's just something... appealing, about the Midwest. Though I think I might miss the late night pizza delivery too much to really make a habit of it."

She grins, "But yeah, I do think people are basically good. Which I find encouraging... just that, well, sometimes people take advantage of that and twist 'em around where they don't quite realize it." She wrinkles her nose at that, totally not thinking of Presidential candidates.

Clark Kent has posed:
"True, but if you stick with it like you seem determined to, you'll be a me soon enough. Maybe even a Lois, if you're /really/ good," Clark answers. "I miss it sometimes, that simpler, isolated life... but here in the city, you see so much more of people -- and so many people different from yourself. It's exciting, sure, but it's also a kind of education. One I wouldn't give up for the world. And the pizza too, I guess."

He suddenly laughs. "That said, I am absolutely retiring to the old Kent farmhouse, when the time comes. Maybe adopt some kids of my own." There's a momentary pause after he says that -- something that crosses his mind, and distracts him from the conversation at hand.

When he finally does speak up again, he says thoughtfully, "Yes, people can be manipulated by those who are willing to do so. That's one of the mistakes everyone is prone to. They need people like us to help them see through the manipulation, the best we can. I'm just glad we're not in a two-way presidential race." Seems Clark picked up on what Mary was referencing, there.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary nods, "No argument from me there... especially about the pizza. Though, um..." She pauses, then adds, "I have to admit, I like the Chicago deep dish style better." She laughs a little, looking almost kinda nervous, but Clark's from Kansas. Surely he won't make her get out and walk, right?

Right???

Then she continues, "Old farmhouse, and adopting a couple kids? Well, I think you'd be a pretty good foster dad. I can tell the type." She grins, "The Vasquezes are pretty amazing. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for them. And it... sounds like you might have a couple in mind already?" One eyebrow arches, just a little bit as she sounds curious about that.

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark smiles and raises one eyebrow at Mary, fully aware that people around here take their pizza partisanship seriously. If anything, he's a little flattered that she trusted him enough to make such a controversial statement in front of him.

"I like to hope I would. My adoptive parents set a heck of an example," he answers her with a smile that turns a bit bashful as he continues. "A couple? Like... who I'd want to settle down with? Mmmmmaybe."

He eases out of the road partly, getting nice and close to a sidewalk near where reconstruction after the fight is already underway, and flashes her a smile. "I leave it to your impeccable investigative instincts, Mary Bromfield. I believe this is your stop?"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary grins, "Indeed it is. Say hi to Lois for me." She smiles and unbuckles her seat belt, taking her backpack as she opens the door, "Thanks for the lift, Clark, I'll be fine to get back from here. Though I might just head home and send the notes in via email."

She looks around, then waves, "See you later, Clark Kent." As Mary shuts the door and walks off, starting to hit the pavement to talk to the locals, there's a faint rumble of thunder in the distance...