We peek through the curtains from Jimmy's point of view. The camera glides from table to table. Each one has a lamp on it, and people are drinking, smoking and having subdued fun. Clark, making a funny smooth face, comes into the club behind Jimmy, then walks past him. "Eyes back in your head, Olsen," he says, then keeps walking. A cigarette girl walks past. Jimmy, following, says he didn't peg Clark for the kind of guy with a secret identity. Clark waits an eternity, until they reach the bar, to answer, "And you're never gonna!" So much for snappy dialogue. Clark asks Jimmy to suppose he tells Clark what story he's working on. Suppose we stop supposing and just say what we're doing. Jimmy says there's no story. (Ace reporter!) He's just...thirsty. Clark says that if he had Jimmy's reputation, he wouldn't come within a hundred yards of this place unless he had some sort of scoop. Really, this place doesn't seem seedy at all. It's anti-seedy. The anti-seedant. Is there a human slave operation going on in the back? Some sort of opium den? We hear an awesome voice says, "Rye whiskey." It's Papa Luthor, and he is rockin' the sleazy bar-owner look. He's got on a white suit with a black bow tie, and his hair is slick like a baby seal in petroleum. He's got a mean, thin little moustache. He tells the bartender, "Rocks," and says to put it on Clark's tab. Papa says that "Kent" strolled in with his "crackerjack kid." "You tryin' to land me in the cooler?" he asks. Clark answers, "Cool your jets, Mack." He says Jimmy's just a little down on love. "Poor sucker," Papa observes. "Dames is poison." Boy, howdy! And here I thought it was just me who thought "Lana Lang" was a synonym for hemlock. Speaking of ladies who'll make you choke, Lois Lane comes down the Talon stairs wearing a creamy satiny dress and a big flower in her hair. She tries really hard not to fall down the steps as she walks carefully. A piano starts to play as she goes "doo doo, doo doo...," which is sort of a foreshadowing of the quality of the song about to be sung. Lois, spotlight on her, strides to the big microphone, and it picks her up before she even gets close to the thing. She begins singing. It's not bad. At first. She thrusts out her chest and turns to the side as she sings, "I want somebody else, somebody who could beeeeee." Clark leans against the bar. The piano player doesn't even bother to look toward the stage. "Someone not like yourself, but somebody who loves me," Lois continues. I have a feeling Leonard Bernstein didn't write these lyrics. The bass player next to Lois tries to hold in a giggle. Clark gives Jimmy a funny look. He asks if that's what Jimmy's after. "Get in line," he adds. Oy, that doesn't speak well of Lois. Jimmy scoffs and says it's not. He's just admiring the view.