Page 24 of Hercules

CHAPTER 7

“Lois Lance?”

Apollo’s reiteration was on the money for blending incredulity and insult, so Herc felt no need to embellish on their interaction. Freed up from having to consider words and tone, he was able to focus on other factors here.

The necessary stuff:

The woman, still standing tall with her wig and colored contacts in hand, never lowered her gaze from Apollo’s unblinking scrutiny. So, she wasn’t lying. Or was operating under the damn strong impression that she wasn’t.

The unnecessary, but unignorable, details:

She’d been gorgeous with those red-gold waves around her face. But now, with the sleek curtains of darker strands that actually matched everything—her skin tone, her eyebrows, the light brown irises that reminded him of autumn equinox moons—well, gorgeous was a starter course to the feast of her actual beauty. A speck of description compared to the entire picture.

But…insignificant.

Just like all of it had to be.

Just like she had to be.

A wrong turn in the plan. A mistake in their lead. More exigently, a huge stall in the mission. A bump they hadn’t asked for but had to accept. Sometimes, shit just happened like this.

It was just a delay. Not a whole distraction.

There was a choice he could control. And would, damn it.

Her piqued huff was an advantageous summons to that goal.

“It’s my real name this time,” she stressed, directing most of it at Apollo. A damn good thing, because Herc wasn’t sure what his own reaction would consist of at this point. “I mean it. Honestly. My ID is back at the club somewhere, in my purse, but if you know Mira and contact her—”

Apollo grabbed a turn to swipe the air with calm purpose. “Oh, I believe you.”

Herc tapped his head back against the wall though kept his stare fully alert. “Broha’s got a solid. This is a crazy twist, but there’s no making up that kind of a handle.”

The woman’s blush gained some new pigment. Herc swore to only notice it in passing, instead of adding it to the list of unnecessary-but-necessary details. When lists got too long, they tangled a guy. Tripped him up. Necessary or unnecessary, they were trouble.

The last thing he needed right now.

“My mom and dad were obsessed with superheroes.” The woman wouldn’t let up on her skittish glances at Apollo and him, obviously wondering what they’d do about the new bomb she’d dropped on the situation. But she gamely went on, “I was supposed to be a Clark or a Peter. When I wasn’t, they decided Lois was more clever than Diana or Wanda.”

“Though you ended up as a stand-in for a Natasha.”

And here he was, just worsening the situation.

As soon as Apollo confirmed that with an equally condemning glare, Herc tried to soothe the woman by hitching an apologetic shoulder. It was probably like dumping water on a grease fire, but before the broha could fire up a new glower, the woman herself spoke up again.

“Valid point for the demigod.”

The Lois who actually gave him a taste of being the dude with the S on his chest.

The female who tagged it with a smirk so adorable he tried a feat that he hadn’t accomplished in ten years.

He took a deep breath, deciding to savor the moment.

No.

Where’d that gong of stupidity come from? Savoring the moment was an idiot’s way of saying let’s waste some time.

In this case, lots of it. As in several hours, if they were counting this afternoon’s suit shopping in this crazy mix.