Lois rolled her eyes at his comment about lecturing, knowing it was probably true. She did give him ample reason to think about lecturing her most days. Sometimes on more than one occasion. She was already taking out her phone and scrolling to the correct contact while he looked at the paper, wondering the same things as him. She also hoped the guy was okay. He’d endured more than a lot of people would, Apocalypse or not. And considering what the Vetala did to their victims, it would probably be best if he’d gotten the hell outta dodge instead of winding up as one of their meals.
“If we can promise him a pack of coffee beans from Costa Rica in the next week I bet he has it in a few minutes,” she told him, trying to remember if they had a bag of that in one of the cupboards. She was pretty sure they did. “Hey, Phil! Yes, I’m calling for a favor.” She narrowed her eyes, turning away so she wasn’t looking at Clark. “No. I won’t tell you what I’m wearing. Coffee from Costa Rica. That’s what I’ll offer you.”
She turned back, making writing hand motions at him. She needed to write down the possible addresses Phil was so graciously offering her. She had a pen and took the paper from Clark, scrawling the information on the margins. “Thanks, Phil. I’ll drop off the bag next week.”
Pocketing her phone, she lifted the paper for Clark to see. “Three possible options.” Which was better than what they’d had only moments before.