Chapter Text
Lois can spin out excuses with the best of them, but even to her own ears they’re sounding pretty thin. The thing is that while being an army brat rips your life apart and ruins everything, there are, in fact, other army brats, and the fact not a single one of them wanted to talk to her on base felt pretty personal. Even her sister and her are on the outs, and her sister is a baby. Well, whatever, Lois had still made the army brat excuse to the general, and he’d finally coughed up the money to send her to boarding school.
So far, it hasn’t been that different.
“Uh, sorry, I’ve got something that day,” says Linda, the girl everyone avoids because she thinks she can talk to cats.
“Cool, of course,” Lois says, bobbing her head up and down as best she can. She hadn’t said what day. It doesn’t even feel like she’s in her own body.
Not everybody boards, but there’s no use asking the kids who go home at the end of the school day. They’re hardly going to make time for the loud girl who talks to much.
It feels like she’s sliding by the rest of the world, like she’s really really small, smaller and smaller with every person she tries to ask.
Caroline had offered to spend her birthday with her, but Lois’d had heard Caroline talking to the other girls about how they had to be nice to Lois because she has a dead mom, no matter how much it sucked to hang out with her. It’d taken a long time for her to stop looking the tiles on the floor in the hallway she was eavesdropping from. Too late to catch them and tell them where they could shove it.
She could call Chloe and her uncle, but Chloe’s literally five, so that seemed like a new low. Whatever. Brent the scholarship kid from the boys middle school brings in snacks to sell, and Lois thinks the world owes her at least some Cheetos for her birthday.
“You're fine,” Lois says to herself in the bathroom mirror before she heads out, pointing a firm finger. “Don't let them get to you.”
The boarding school isn’t in the city proper to keep the high schoolers from finding beer, so there’s a bit of woods Lois can cut through to sneak over the fence. Midway, she hears someone crying.
About fifty feet from the shortcut there’s a kid sniffling away, holding some sort of magazine and absolutely smothered in mud. Lois is pretty sure it’s a boy given the pants on the uniform and what looks like short hair under the muck, but it feels pretty pathetic for a boy her age to be crying like that. She hadn’t even cried about literally no one wanting to talk to her on her birthday, and she’s a girl. The general would have a field day with them.
Still, Lois decides to be generous. She walks up and clears her throat, untying her kerchief. “Here,” she says, “you can use it clean up.”
The kid immediately stops sobbing, tipping their chin up. Lois feels bad about making fun of them in her head about crying. It’s a person’s own business what they do alone, and clearly they still have a spine to straighten. She gestures with the kerchief again.
They’re somehow regal when they take it, wiping it neatly over their face and scalp before starting in on their hands, shaking it out every few swipes. Huh. Bald. And a boy. Or a cancer patient, but he still has long eyelashes. He’s still dirty enough that she can’t really make out what he really looks like, necktie not nearly enough.
She’d ask him what happened but she’d hate the question herself so she decides to skip it. He’s wiping down the magazine so she points at that instead.
“What’s that?” Lois asks, genuinely curious.
“Warrior Angel,” he says slowly, looking at up at her with sharp blue eyes.
Right, boys like that kind of stuff. She’d seen some of the comics but hadn’t bothered with them, but maybe they’re okay.
“Are you into it because he’s bald?” Lois blurts out. She almost claps a hand over her mouth. The baldness doesn’t seem like the sort of thing she’s supposed to mention out loud, like how every tries to keep their voices down when they talk about her mom. This is why nobody likes her.
The boy looks at her like she burped at Easter mass, but shrugs. “A bit,” he says. “It’s also really cool.”
Lois’ll be the judge of that.
“Scoot over,” she says, already shoving him.
A couple of pages and she already does not like how the comic treats the main girl. “Wow,” Lois says, “do boys really think girls depend on them for everything?” It’s pretty bad in all the old books she’s read, but this issue came out like a year ago. You’d think they would’ve learned from She-Ra and women’s lib.
“He has super powers,” the boy says like it’s obvious, “so he can do more her when there’s danger.”
“Yeah,” Lois says, mocking his tone, “and somebody wrote this. They could’ve also given her super powers.” He can’t talk back to that.
“Although,” Lois says thoughtfully, “I guess if I knew someone with super powers I could just do whatever I want and use them as my ride out. I definitely wouldn’t just wait to get kidnapped.”
“Penelope doesn’t either!” He says defensively. “She helps Warrior Angel in his fight against Devilicus. She’s dedicated to the pursuit of truth.”
Every adult who’s ever met her has called her nosy, so Lois can respect that.
“Yeah, but you’re even calling it the fight between Warrior Angel and Devilicus,” Lois says. “Here! It calls Warrior Angel Devilicus’s nemesis. Isn’t Penelope Devilicus’s nemesis too?”
The boy looks put out, and he’s still so covered in mud that Lois decides to drop it. “I’m never going to be known as some guy’s girlfriend,” Lois mutters. “I’m the nemesis.” Well, she’ll drop it after that.
The boy snorts at her. “With your mouth? Finding a nemesis will be a breeze,” he says.
“Looks like you already have a few,” Lois says. “How’s the mud taste?”
The boy lets out a little angry “hah” like he’s mad he finds her funny. “You know,” the boy says, “the word nemesis comes from the name of a goddess who balances the scales of fortune.”
“Like karma?” Lois asks. The general calls all the trouble she gets in from running her mouth karma, so she’s a little sick of hearing about it.
“Not exactly,” the boy says. “In some stories she also strikes down those with too much fortune to even things out.”
“People who get their fortune from hurting people, or just anyone who’s got too much?” Lois says, folding her legs.
“Fortune like luck, not money, although sometimes that’s the same thing. The Greeks thought everyone should have happiness and sorrow in right proportion,” the boy says, like he’s quoting some old scripture. In the green light of the trees, it feels like a heavy thing to say.
“So she’s just hurting people to keep them down,” Lois says. “Sounds like a bully to me.”
“You don’t think people can have too much? That the universe won’t even the scales when they do?” The boy asks, putting his chin on his knee.
This guy’s really trying to get a second entry of ‘bleak’ into the dictionary. Lois shakes her head. “I think someone can have too much if they’re hurting people to get it,” she says, “but it’s totally evil to ruin someone’s happiness just because they’re happy. If the universe takes that away just because, that’s the universe’s crime. People don’t deserve to get hurt for nothing. They only deserve to get hurt in return for hurting people.”
“Justice,” the boy says, “but there’s more than one definition of wrongdoing.”
“Let me guess, the Greeks again,” Lois says, elbowing the boy enough to make him oof. “You know, an idea being old doesn’t make it right.”
“Not just them, obviously,” the boy says, “and you would know better?” He looks her up and down. Geez, for someone slathered in mud he sure has a lot to say.
“Maybe,” Lois says. “It’s good to learn what other people think, but at some point or another, people have to decide for themselves.” At least according to the general, although Lois sometimes has a sinking feeling he just says that as an excuse to put her off. Whatever. She’s gotten out of his thinning hair.
“So you don’t think fate determines us,” the boy says, head turned all the way towards her.
The general says people have callings. “Do you?” Lois asks, genuinely curious.
“I’d like to think I’m meant for something, and that the things that’ve happened to me have meaning,” the boy says slowly. “But I guess I also like to think that I’ll shape that fate myself.”
“I think… I like to think it’s all meaning we make,” Lois says. She’s never really thought about she thinks about all of this before, and she feels so excited about it that she’s sick to her stomach. “And I think I want to make my meaning be doing right by people.”
“Existentialist,” the boy says, weighing her out.
“Some other old people telling us how to live?” Lois asks.
“Telling us we’re responsible for deciding for ourselves,” the boy says. “You should read Sartre.”
Lois kind of actually wants to read what he’s talking about, but she doesn’t really want to admit that word had just sounded like him sneezing to her. “I’ll look into it,” she says, trying to sound as high handed as he does.
For once in her life she thinks a little bit on whether she should say the next thing, but screw it. “I don’t think people hurting you has a purpose from destiny,” she says. “I think it just means that they did something wrong.”
Well that was probably too much. Lois stands abruptly and sweeps off her skirt. “I’ve got to get snacks before Brent leaves.” She points at her necktie. “You can keep that. Bye!”
She leaves before she can see if she offended him or not. Well, it needed saying. The stuff that boy said was as fascinating and reconfigurable as the folds in an origami fortune teller, but it was also depressing as all get out. As she trudges out, he doesn’t call out goodbye back. Rude.
Laying in her bed that night Lois can’t help turning the conversation over in her head, looking at it from angle after angle. She reads, but she’s never kept her head totally stuck in a book, and he makes her want to check out the stuff from the college level section of the library. It was all so interesting. Warrior Angel still sucks though.
Lois hates to admit it, but it kind of feels like she’d found a secret in the woods, or like she’d wandered into fairyland and talked to some weird sage. She blinks. Shoot. She’d forgotten to ask his name.
A month and change later she’s buying snacks again when she hears some boys snickering. “No way I’m going to Luthor’s birthday,” one snotty voice says. “He’s a total freak. Who knows if it’s even safe.” Lois turns around.
“I thought you said you were going,” one of the other boys says.
“No way, my mom said that,” the first boy says. “Everybody’s planning to skip and go to Riley’s house instead. I wouldn’t go for a million dollars.”
“Hey, Luthor has that,” one of the other boys laughs.
“Then he should’ve thought about paying,” the first boy says, shrugging.
Lois remembers how crappy it felt that nobody’d wanted to go to her birthday, and they’d been decent enough to give her excuses. No way is Lois letting any kid be bullied into feeling that awful.
Lois marches up. “You have an invite?” She says, planting her feet and holding out her hand.
“Why would you want it,” the boy says, looking down her nose at her.
Lois cocks her head. “You said Luthor has a million bucks,” she says, hand still out. “Maybe I want to check that out.”
The boy scoffs. “Scholarship kids,” he says. Lois doesn’t bother telling him otherwise.
“You don’t want it. Hand it over,” she says, raising her eyebrow like the general does.
“Why should I?” The boy says. Lois squints and takes the thirty dollars she has on her out from her backpack, the sum total of what’s left of birthday money her uncle gave her. She keeps it next to her so the other girls boarding can’t steal it, and it’s literally her only route to snacks.
“This enough?” Lois says, waving it around.
“I’m not poor,” the kid scoffs.
One of the others fishes in his backpack and hands her some thick fancy card. “I’ll take it,” he says. “My mom’s cut off my allowance.”
Wow. The birthday invite’s even got some sort of curly script. Lois hates to say it, but she kinda gets why no one wants to go. Nobody likes her, but nobody bullies her. Maybe she should give this Luthor kid some pointers.
Somewhat reluctantly, Lois hands over the money.
Looking at the date, she sees it’s today. Crap. She can’t ask her uncle for a ride this last minute.
Well, Lois will just have to walk to the bus stop and ask for a map. The general had trained her on finding coordinates with just the sky, no way are addresses harder. She probably has enough change left over. If she starts walking now she’ll definitely make it by five.
She doesn’t bother thanking the jerks when she walks away.
It’s a few bus rides and some concerned looks before she hits a point where the neighborhoods seem too rich for public transportation. The map points her to the fanciest street she’s ever seen. Each house looks like it has a whole park behind it, and she’s standing in the middle of the city.
Looks like this Luthor kid does have a million dollars. Lois had been bummed about giving up her thirty to the cause of righteousness, but maybe it was actually a pretty good investment. She’s not going to take advantage of anybody’s money when she doesn’t need it, but she’ll definitely scoop their snacks.
Pretty soon she’s standing up a gate and staring up a hill, looking at what is definitely a very, very rich person’s house. It's tall, and sort of looms. Lois kind of feels like gulping but absolutely refuses to. Pressing the intercom, she rocks back on her heels.
“Would you please state your business with the Luthors?” The voice acts, a camera without a screen on her end giving them an unfair advantage. Lois straightens her spine.
“I am here for Alexander’s birthday party,” she says as boldly as she can, holding up the invitation. There’s a pause, but the gate rolls open.
“Thank you for identifying yourself,” the voice says. “Please, come in.”
The drive isn’t as long as it looked like from the bottom, so pretty soon she’s being ushered by a maid down hallways dense with dark wood and gilt frames and side tables with flowers and into to a room absolutely smothered in food. Wow. That’s one way to try and win people over.
Maybe if his eyes hadn’t been swollen again Lois wouldn’t have recognized him. Nah. The shift of his blue grey eyes would’ve still given him away. Lois gapes. “Warrior Angel boy?”
“How did you get here?” He says, voice imperious but still a bit teary at the edges. Well. Being stood up by literally everyone on your birthday’s gotta suck. But that’s why she’s here.
“I have an invitation,” she says, waving it around.
“How did you get that?” Luthor says, chin still up.
Lois feels a little bad telling him, but she figures it’s better than lying. “Bought it off of someone,” she says. “It sucks when no one comes to your birthday.”
“So you bought an invitation?” Luthor says, incredulous.
Lois shrugs. “Yeah,” she says, “Some boys were talking about not going, I thought they sounded like assholes, and now here I am. I’m not going to let someone feel like crap if I can help it.” You’d think Luthor’d be a little happier she’s here. It’s not every day someone buses two hours for someone they don’t know. Whatever. Luthor looks down, thinking, and Lois takes a quick second to pat down her hair and uniform. Warrior Angel boy. After all that busing, Lois really hopes that she looks okay.
“Besides,” she says, “I didn’t know it when I bought it, but you’re the only person who really talked to me on one of my worse days. Fair’s fair.”
“I’m assuming you didn’t manage a present,” he says, the picture of blown over disbelief. Lois rolls her eyes.
“Oh boo hoo,” Lois says, “I’m your present.” Lois gets closer to check out the table. “Are those cheese puffs?” Lois sits down and puts on a hat. “You know, this is probably fine for me, but you’re a little old for party hats,” she says, stuffing cheese puffs into her mouth. Somebody’s got to look out for him.
“How old are you anyways,” Luthor says, squinting at her. Beyond the balloon arches, they're in a tall room with lots of molding and a glass door. It makes all the swiped from television birthday pastiche seem uncanny. With his straight back and marble head, Luthor fits in more with the building than the decor.
“I just turned eleven,” she says, smudging her hand on her shirt and holding out her hand to shake. Shoot, she should’ve thought that through. “I’m in sixth grade at the girl’s school. You?” He was wearing the middle school uniform last time, but he looks pretty young.
He gives pointed look at the cake in the corner. They’ve got the big number candles on it. “Twelve,” he says, like she should’ve been more observant. Her hand remains ignored.
Seems like Luthor’s what the general would call a stone cold bitch.
“Definitely too old for party hats. I think you should fire your planner,” she says decisively, ignoring how his hackles raise. He’s really got to get less sensitive. “Look, everyone says I have a hole in my stomach, but there’s no way we’re going to eat all of this.” Lois thinks. It’s all been opened so they can’t give it to the food bank. “The kids who sold me the invite said that people are going to some guy named Riley’s house. Wanna go throw some of this at them?”
Luthor blinks at her. “Has anyone told you you’re a little impulsive?” he says. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
“The general’s hardly going to raise a pansy,” Lois says, munching back down on the cheese puffs. “What are these?” Lois asks, stuffing her hand into what looks like a bowl of bright red Cheetos.
“Wait, those are-“ Luthor says, reaching out a hand in warning. Lois can feel her whole face go red, like in a cartoon.
“These,” she says around a hot dry lump, “are amazing.” She stuffs some more in her mouth and chokes out a cloud of red dust.
There’s what sounds like a rumble in Luthor’s chest before the laughter leaks through, like he’s trying to keep a lid on it, but pretty soon he’s guffawing. He’s almost teary with it. Lois would usually be offended, but it seems like it’s been a tough month.
“There it is,” Lois says around a mouthful of fire, swallowing before yanking on his cheek. “So even a grumpy guts like you can laugh.” It’s a nice smile; it makes his face look pretty. She leaves a red streak on his cheek. Oops.
Luthor’s looks like he’s thinking something over before he puts his hand in the regular cheese puff bowl and smears the dust in one wide swipe over Lois’s face. Forehead to chin.
“Oh,” Lois says, “it’s on.”
It’s beyond a war zone twenty minutes later when the most sophisticated looking woman in the world comes to check on them. She’s wearing pearls to a party for a twelve-year-old.
“Uh,” Lois says, “I can explain.” Not the strongest opener, but a classic. The woman is super pregnant. Lois knows enough to know it’s very important not to upset her.
Instead of yelling at them the woman smiles till her eyes crinkle up. “You kids having fun?” She says, ignoring whatever’s squelching beneath her feet when she steps into the room. Luthor straightens up.
“Mom,” he says, “we were just-“
“I was coming to check if you needed anything,” Mrs. Luthor says. Sweet, she’s not mad.
“I’m Lois,” Lois says, remembering her manners. “Thanks Mrs. Luthor. I could probably use a towel,” Lois says, looking down. She’s so screwed for the dorms tonight.
Oh god, the dorms tonight.
“I actually think I have to get going to not hit curfew,” Lois says grimly. The clock in the corner is telling her nothing she wants to hear. “I’m at least two hours out from the school.”
Mrs. Luthor blinks. “How did you get here?” she asks politely.
Lois huffs. “Bus,” she says. “Wait, do you think they’re still running?”
Mrs. Luthor smiles. “Yes, but I think we can arrange a ride,” she says.
“You sure?” Lois checks. “I don’t wanna ruin your car seats.”
Mrs. Luthor smiles wider. “Oh, I’m sure we can spare one car.”
Lois feels like she’s not in on a joke.
“The school’s only a twenty minute drive from here,” Mrs. Luthor says, “so you can stay over another hour or so if you like. We can even find you some clothes to change into and wash your uniform while we’re at it. Well, make some progress on it.”
She thinks there’s the inside of a pizza pocket sprayed all over her back, so she’s not too proud to take them up on it. “Thanks,” Lois says. “I’ll make sure to wash them and bring it back. I mean, the laundry situation at the dorms isn't great, but I'll definitely bring them back by-”
“By bus?” Luthor says, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Lois reaches back and thwaps him in the stomach before she can think better of it, then smiles weakly at Mrs. Luthor.
“I’ll have it back to you within the week,” Lois says.
Within 15 minutes they’re both wiped down and in fresh shorts and T-shirts. Lois knows she probably looks way worse like this than in her uniform, but there’s not much she can do about it. To distract herself she makes Luthor show her his room.
“You really like this Warrior Angel stuff,” Lois says. Now that his mom’s gone Luthor flips her the bird. You’d think he’d been the one who had grown up on base.
Lois sits cross legged on his bed and holds out a hand. “Come on,” she says, “try and convince me again.”
The reveal that Penelope dies to make Warrior Angel sad sets Lois off, so her and Luthor end up arguing about that for a while. Every so often he hands her a new issue and rambles on about a guy named Gilgamesh and the building blocks of Greek tragedies. It probably says sad things about her that she’s more interested in the old timey stuff than the comic books.
Somehow they get to talking about about chess. “So it’s a strategy game,” Lois says, “like football.” The general plays it sometimes, but he’s been more concerned with Lois’s martial arts training than explaining chess rules.
Luthor twitches. “Chess is different than football,” Luthor says with finality.
“Yeah, because there’s no skin in the game,” Lois says, waving her feet. “But the named strategies sound like plays. A queen is like a running back, so on and so forth. Football has really specific rules too; you have to logic out each move.”
Luthor looks bemused. Looks like snooty rich people BS isn’t as different from regular stuff as he’d like to think.
“Then how do you explain football players failing half their classes?” Luthor says, condescending.
Lois shrugs. “The coaches and quarterback choose the strategy,” she says. Suddenly Lois feels like it’s on her to defend the whole world’s population of football players. “Also, things aren’t always about being smart. It’s hard to study when you have practice all the time. And sometimes people fail English class because they don’t like old books, history class because they don’t care about what Greek people did a thousand years ago did, etcetera.”
“If what you’re saying’s right, it’d do them some good,” Luthor says, “the Greeks knew something about strategy.”
“Battle is nothing like chess or any other game. There are a lot more variables and a lot less rules,” Lois says, deep and rumbly. The general sure did like to hand out random wisdom.
Luthor says what with just his face. “It’s what the general says,” Lois says. Maybe they shouldn’t have totaled all the snacks. She’s kind of hungry.
“The general?” Luthor asks. “You keep mentioning him.”
“Oh, yeah,” Lois says, looking at the blanket. “My dad’s a general. General Samuel Lane.” She makes herself look up again. “He knows a lot of stuff like that, obviously, but he’s really busy, so I don’t know the half of it.”
Once adults know the general’s name they usually forget hers. Heck, even the general halfway forgets her in the face of duty. Luthor seems knowledgeable enough to get how important her dad is, so he probably will too. Maybe that’s her destiny.
“Makes sense why you’re in boarding school then,” Luthor offers.
“I got sick of moving,” she says, “Wanted to try and make some real friends.” Lois sighs deeply. “Not that I’ve had any luck.”
Luthor smiles tentatively. “We could be friends,” he says.
Lois sits bolt upright. “Really?” Lois asks,“that easy? You don’t mind being friends with a girl?” Lois grins. Usually she has to beat boys into submission before they admit that it wouldn’t be so bad and then they don’t really want to be friends anyways. This after Lois just totally creamed Lex in the food fight!
“You’re not really like other girls,” Luthor says. Lucy and Chloe are other girls even if they’re little, so Lois definitely doesn’t like the sound of that. She whacks him.
“What’s wrong with other girls? I’m not like other people,” Lois says, “and neither is anybody else. Girls included.”
“You’re definitely not like other people,” Luthor says. It doesn’t sound entirely like a compliment, but Lois’ll take it.
Lois nods decisively. “Alright, we’re friends.” Lois thinks. “Wait, I’ve just been calling you Luthor in my head, Alexander’s way too much. What do you go by?”
From what she’s seen so far, he might actually go by Alexander. It’s okay. They’ll work on it.
“I’m Lex,” Lex says, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you. You’re Lois, right?”
“Lois Lane,” Lois says. “Hey, Lex Luthor and Lois Lane. We alliterate.”
Lois can tell from Lex’s face that he’s a bit surprised that she knows what that means, so she smacks him in the arm.
“Just because I don’t talk like a dictionary doesn’t mean I don’t know anything,” Lois says. She just knows better than to use all those big words. That’s how you end up in the woods covered in mud.
“You didn’t know about Sartre,” Lex says archly. Lois smacks him again.
“Well, tell me about it,” Lois says. “Do you have the book?"
Lois expects to take a uniform soaking in stain remover home, but it’s just kind of damp when it’s time to leave.
“Wow,” Lois says, “your house is really good at washing things.” She tucks the uniform in its weird plastic jacket over her arm and the books she’s borrowing under it and looks up and Mrs. Luthor. “Alright, ready to go.”
“What do we have here?” Says a voice from the dark end of the hall. A strange, tall man glides towards them, giving Lois chills. Lex both straightens up and cringes somehow.
“So you came to Lex’s birthday party,” the man says in a plasticly jovial voice, like evil Santa. Lois sticks out her hand.
“Lois Lane,” she says with her chin up, “daughter of General Samuel Lane.” For some reason she feels the need to let this man know her credentials. And that she’s not easy to mess with.
The man’s eyebrows jump up. “A general’s daughter?” He says appraisingly. “Not bad.” He firmly shakes her hand. It takes all Lois has not to wipe it when he lets go. “I’m Lionel Luthor, Lex’s father.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Luthor,” Lois says on autopilot. Something about the flatness of Mr. Luthor’s smile makes it feel like something sinister is stirring over his face. “Hey Lex, want to ride in the car with me?” Lois asks. Suddenly she doesn’t want to leave him in this house with this man.
Mr. Luthor’s hand descends onto Lex’s shoulder, which very pointedly does not move. “I think it’s time for me and my family to celebrate my son’s birthday ourselves,” Mr. Luthor says, sounding kind. “It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Lane.”
“Meet me after school on Monday,” Lois blurts out, “in the woods by the shortcut. I’ll give back your clothes.” It’s probably the soonest she can check in on him. Lex nods.
Mrs. Luthor smiles and gestures at a different man that’s appeared beside her. “Here’s our driver, Joseph. He’ll take you to back to your school.”
Lois nods again. “Goodbye everyone,” she says, and takes stiff, reluctant steps towards what must be the garage door. It feels like some great, ominous force is gathering on the floor, oozing around Lex and Mr. Luthor’s feet.
“Goodbye,” Lex says. Joseph opens the door, and it feels like Lois’s ears pop when she leaves she doesn’t want to go so bad. The soft thwip of the door firmly closing is the loudest sound in the world.
Lois stands there, staring. She doesn’t want to leave Lex alone in that house. But what can she do?
She hates herself so much for being helpless that her gut knots up.
“This way, Ms. Lane,” Joseph says.
“Right,” Lois says. She’ll see Lex on Monday. Mr. Luthor heard that.