Lionel: Miss Sullivan.
Chloe: Mr. Luthor. What are you doing here?
Lionel: You have made it… to the major leagues. Congratulations.
Chloe: Thank you.
Lionel: Very, very nice. You’ve done very well for yourself. I am certain that, sooner than later, you’re gonna be working upstairs under the Tiffany lamps. A big story certainly would accelerate the process. Not that, um… obituaries and uh, wedding announcements don’t inspire scintillating journalism.
Chloe: If you’re trying to feed me some sort of self-promoting fluff piece, I’m not interested.
Lionel: Uh, how does it go? You can put a tuxedo on the fiddler, but he’s still gonna play the same old tune.
Chloe: That’s good. You should jot that down and add it to your page-a-day calendar. I gotta go.
Lionel: Miss Sullivan, your creative passion will always be for the bizarre and the inexplicable. That’s why I think you’re the perfect reporter for this story.
Chloe: You have one minute. The clock is ticking.