Lois finds Clark in their room, which he has restored to all its cozy glory, complete with roaring fire and lit candles. "Turns out the leak wasn't as bad as she said it was," Clark says. Lois sighs. "Clark Kent, my hero." They beam at each other for a while. Some undetermined amount of time later, Lois is behind a privacy screen, getting dressed for bed. The camera pans across the impressive assortment of lingerie Lois has brought with her. She smiles shyly at herself in a mirror, takes a deep breath, and peers through the screen to where Clark, in his pajamas, is trying out different ways to arrange the pillows on the bed. Lois smiles, obviously relieved that Clark seems as nervous as she does. Clark dims the lights a bit then spies Lois's shapely form through the screen. When she finally steps into the room, she's wearing a teal blue number that favors her assets but not in the fetishized, trashy way you may have come to expect from this show. She stands nervously for Clark's approval and asks, "Too much?" He thinks it's perfect. It very nearly matches the color of his gonads, thanks to that side trip to the yarn ball. Then he lets his nerves get the best of him and he asks Lois what side of the bed she'd prefer to sleep on. They go back and forth over who gets what side until the moment pretty much passes them by. They climb into bed and lie down, face to face, and make a little small talk. They're just about to kiss when they hear a sound like a ferret being used as an electric guitar string. There's a flash of light. "What the hell was that?" Lois asks. A mood-killer, that's what. We get to see the real answer: Outside, the young lady from earlier is dragging her now-deceased paramour through the woods. In fact, he's not just deceased, but thoroughly desiccated, as well. Every time there's a flash of lightning, the woman's face glows with corresponding flashes of that skeletal visage. Commercials!