Work Text:
"And you're not being relentless about this because the translation made your boyfriend sad?"
Lois leans against his desk. "Luthor gets linguists without knowledge of Kryptonian to instantly decode a recording and you don't find that suspicious?"
"Somewhat," Michael concedes. "What does it have to do with me?"
"I just need a lead," Lois tells him, persistent as when she dragged him into a goddamn pocket dimension to rescue said boyfriend. "Doesn't Guy have - space contacts?"
"I'm not Guy."
"Well, aren't you the brains of the outfit?"
Michael snorts. Damn straight. Aloud, he says, "I'll see what I can do."
