Talon. The marquee, in sunlight, says it's half-priced lattes all week. Who's running the place now? In the upstairs apartment, Chloe is cooking. She removes a giant red casserole dish, foil-covered, from the stove. Just then, Clark enters, carrying her green laptop. Chloe is glad. She says she never thought she'd be so happy to be reunited with silicone microchips. Silicone? It's "Silicon," Chloe, as in, "Silicon Valley." It's not like Chloe to make a mistake like that. Unless it was some sort of secret jab at Lois. Clark says he grabbed the computer before the police arrived, so he's hoping Blagojevich didn't grab any files off it first. Chloe says "Tony Soprano Jr." is the last time she carries around secure files like that. Clark sees all the food and asks if Chloe's expecting company. She lies, badly, and says she's not. She says stress causes her to cook lots of food. Clark never noticed that before in all the years they've been stressed out together. Chloe smiles. She's almost crying already. Clark asks if she's all right. Chloe says Clark almost died for her computer. He pulls up his shirt and shows the non-existent wound on his torso. He's fine. He senses something else is going on. He asks what's wrong, but Chloe says it's nothing. Her eyes say it's not true. Very tensely, she throws down a spoon and says that with all that's happened, she forgets she's supposed to be cheery all the time. Clark, who hasn't been there for Chloe lately, says that he's here for Chloe. Chloe says she knows. She tells him she just needs a little space right now and not a super-save. Her eyes are red and teary and her voice breaks. She smiles and it's full of torment. Clark nods. He leaves without another word as Chloe breathes out a sigh of relief.
Lois is walking down one of the nicer streets in Metropolis. She's holding a piece of blue paper taped to a larger piece of red paper. It says, "WE SHOULD TALK. 1421 THIRD STREET -- 10 PM." The address points to a store that's already closed for the night. Lois tells herself that a wild goose chase for a story usually ends with a rotten egg. Especially when you make the fucking story up. She turns to go, but suddenly a phone is ringing. Lois walks toward the last phone booth in North America. She picks up the receiver. "Is this Lois Lane, the reporter?" The voice is low and gross, using Oliver's voice masking technology. "This is the Red-Blue Blur," we hear. Lois smiles, but goes back to being skeptical, asking how she knows it's the real deal. We hear a whoosh and some air moves Lois's hair. "Look down," the person on the phone says. It's a copy of the newspaper where Lois wrote an article inviting the Red-Blue Blur to contact her. Lois is suddenly inspired. We see Clark on a nearby rooftop. He's got some weird gadget hooked up to a cell phone that's making his voice all weird. Lois asks him to weigh in on the name, because she says "Red-Blue Blur" is a mouthful. Dirty! Clark nods and says there's probably a better name out there. He thinks Lois is the person to find it. He keeps calling her Miss Lane. Lois rambles about herself. It's not great. Then she admits she's rambling. Clark says she's nervous. She admits she only has one obsession right now and it's him. Yikes. I thought you were supposed to just listen when you finally talked to him. Clark says there's nothing wrong with taking your job seriously. Lois says there is when you don't know who you'd be without it. Clark tells her she's a great reporter, all on her own. He says she doesn't need a hero or a gimmick to make a headline. Lois says her editor would kill her (oh, don't worry, I'm sure that'll happen), but she doesn't even want the story. She just wants to know what the Red-Blue Blur needs. Is it sexual? Because NO PROBLEM. Lois thinks he's lonely. She offers to talk, off the record. "I'm only a phone call away," she says. Clark says he'll keep that in mind. He says that when he's ready to tell the world his secret, she'll be the first to know. They both hang up without saying goodbye. Lois is all smiles. Clark watches her from nearby. He turns and smiles into the night. That was a heroic phone call!