Who: Lois Lane (NPC Perry White and a jerk security guard) When: April 15, 1994 [RETRO] Where: Metropolis, Daily Planet What: Lois lies her way into a job interview.
Okay, so she had lied about her age. And pretty much everything else on her resume was a lie, too, although she really had written for journals in Nigev, Vicenza, Tokyo, Kuwait, and Metropolis - they were all just student papers on some of the various military bases she'd grown up on. It got her in the door, although she was almost thwarted by security, who took one look at her cheap dress (recently stolen, because there was nothing in her wardrobe that would have been suitable - Lois hadn't thought that far ahead), even cheaper shoes (also stolen and ill-fitting - fucking heels), and deep red hair, buzzed short on one side to reveal an ear full of metal, and nearly threw her out on her ass.
Luckily, she'd wheedled them into calling the editor, a Mr. Perry White, and after a whispered conversation, during which she prayed and made bargains she wasn't sure she'd keep, she was asked to sit. The man came himself to receive her, and Lois stopped her nervous toe-tapping, heart sinking, to stare at him, knowing what that meant. He was sizing her up. Well, Lois Lane hadn't run away from home, or what passed as home, to be sent away from the only thing she wanted without a fight. Setting her jaw, tilting her chin upward, Lois pushed herself to her feet and strode confidently to Mr. White, thrusting her hand at him as though she were an adult, and not a teenager.
"I'm Lois Lane," she announced. "Investigative Journalist. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He took her hand. That was a good sign, even if he was studying her as though he didn't understand English. Before she could help it, eyebrow rising, she repeated herself in German. She'd been born on a military base in Germany, although it wasn't the only language she spoke, Lois was nearly fluent.
Mr. White blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. Fishing a cigar from his pocket, he gestured for her to follow him. "Come on, kid. Let's go upstairs and have us a talk."
Lois breathed a sigh and threw a smug look over her shoulder at the guard, who was scowling disapproval.
She goggled as he led her through the old building. Beautiful redwood halls stretched as far as she could see, and Lois was certain the elevators were as old as the building itself. The bullpen, when she walked through it, was alive with excitement. The noise of raised voices and the chatter of typewriter keys. Lois was in love. She needed to be her, would be here. People stopped what they were doing to look as she passed, but Lois kept her head high until they were behind the closed doors of Mr. White's office and he was behind his desk, newly lit cigar in hand as he drew deeply on it.
"So," he said, leaning back. "I'm guessing you're about ten years younger than your resume says."
"You liked my article," Lois challenged. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked me here."
Mr. White didn't respond, still studying her, perhaps trying to put together what he knew with what he didn't. "Where do you come from, kid?"
"Lois," she corrected bluntly. She considered lying, hesitated, then went for the truth. She had nothing to lose. "I'm an army brat. Let's call it a dishonorable discharge." Her voice dropped to an angry sneer, but she straightened her shoulders and pushed herself upright. "I don't have anywhere to go, and then only thing I've ever wanted to do is be a reporter. I'm good at it, and if you give me a chance, I can be better. I'll do whatever I have to to prove it."
He tapped his cigar into an ashtray, watching the gray soot fall. "That article," he said slowly. "That was some good stuff. I could run that in the Planet. Putting soldiers in basic through months of systematic intimidation and physical violence. I'd wondered how you got on the inside for that one." His eyes flicked up to her. "Needs a little editing, but I'm willing to put it up." Her heart rose and Lois opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. White stood, turning his back to her as he stared out the long window spanning the wall behind his desk. "Problem is, Lois, it'd be illegal for me to hire an underage kid. Before you ask, no - I'd be putting my fat into the fire even more trying to falsify your age. And anyone with half a brain can see you're not old enough to vote."
Spirit plummeting again, Lois fought the tight press behind her eyes that threatened tears. She would not cry, dammit, would not cry. Maybe he saw something in her face, maybe he'd already made up his mind, but Mr. White sat down again with a sigh. "Tell you what. In exchange for this article, I've got an unused room downstairs I can set you up in for now. How much money you got?"
Her throat had closed, but she managed, "Two thousand." Fifteen hundred she'd saved from her allowance, and five hundred she'd... well, stolen from her father. She considered it asshole tax.
Mr. White nodded. "You got room and board. I'll give you some work around the office in exchange. You go out there and get me a story - not just any story, but something real good, now - I'll consider making you a permanent contractor until you're old enough to hire permanently. But you're going to earn you're keep, alright?" He aimed a finger at her. "Both for your lodgings, and whatever else might happen."
Lois jumped to her feet. She reached out to shake his hand, then threw herself across the hug the man, who grunted in surprise, then grumbled in embarrassment. "You won't regret it. I'm going to be the best damn reporter you've ever had."
Picking up her duffle bag, she nearly ran for the door until she realized only he knew where she lived now. Lois turned and waited, a rare wave of shyness taking her over.
Mr. White hid a smile and got to his feet. "I'll have to get something together for you to call it a home. It won't be the Ritz," he warned, and Lois shook her head quickly. Anything was better than sleeping on the street. She'd had to break into a gym this morning to shower. "C'mon," he said again.
"Where are we going?" She followed, and when he didn't answer, she prompted, "Mr. White?"
"It's Perry, kid. You're staying at my home tonight. I'll have you put together in the morning. Oh, and it's probably best if no one knows you're living here." He eyed her.
That made sense, and Lois nodded. "Sure. As soon as I can afford to pay my own rent somewhere, I'll be moving anyway."
Perry grinned. He liked her. "That's the spirit, kid."