Work Text:
Kara handed her article over, bouncing on the balls of her feet as Snapper read through.
She never lost that sense of excitement after turning some writing in, even though Snapper had proven himself to not exactly be the most cheerful reader. She expected him to mock it for a while, but she never lost hope that he might even enjoy some of it.
He turned the page. Slowly, his eyebrows raised.
The brief was simple enough; CatCo was doing a special on women in power, a profile a day for at least a week. Kara had volunteered to cover Lena Luthor.
Snapper paused, slowly putting the article down.
“What is this?” he said, blankly.
“What did you think?” Kara said, chipper.
There was a long pause. He stared, trying to gauge whether or not she was joking.
“Firstly,” he said. “Cut it down. You’ve well-exceeded the allotted word-count.”
He seemed overwhelmed. That could be… good, maybe?
“Really?” Kara said, “I thought I came in just under, it was-”
“You probably added a zero,” Snapper said. “Or two. Or three. Kara. No profile lasts this many pages.”
“Oh,” Kara hesitated. “It was so easy to write that much, I wasn’t sure if-”
“No,” Snapper said. “And next, ‘Lena Luthor is more than just another gloriously talented CEO with soulful, enchanting, beautiful eyes…’ what is that?”
“You said I needed to be more descriptive-”
“Descriptive I don’t have an issue with,” Snapper said. “That many adjectives goes past descriptive.”
“I always learnt in school that three was the best-”
“This isn’t high school, Kara,” Snapper said. “Three adjectives is bearable maybe, maybe, once in a while, not on every damn noun that’s even tangentially related to Lena Luthor.”
“Oh,” Kara’s face fell.
“And this is a profile, not an opinion piece,” Snapper said.
“I know,” Kara said. “I did my best to include only verifiable, objective facts.”
Snapper nearly choked. He flipped through the article, before looking back up at Kara.
“’And her captivating, enthralling, stunning smile is surely both the eighth and ninth wonders of the world,” he quoted.
“I was quite proud of that,” Kara said. “Vivid, and-”
“You call that an objective fact?”
“Look at her!”
Slowly, Snapper sighed. He rested his head in one hand for a few seconds, before exhaling.
“You’re going to need to cut it down,” Snapper said. “Start with removing every adjective unless you can write me a page-long defence of why it has to be there. Then trim all this unnecessary content.”
Kara hesitated.
“What now?” an exasperated Snapper said.
“I’m not really sure what parts I could cut,” Kara said.
“What.”
“Well most of it seemed so crucial to a good understanding of-”
“You’ve got two pages dedicated to her legs!”
“They’re important!”
Snapper groaned, again. Sweetly, and somewhat confused, Kara waited for him to talk.
“Ok,” he said, exhaling heavily. He pulled out a red highlighter. “Everything that gets marked goes.”
He started on the first page, and had marked about half of it red before Kara squeaked in protest.
“What is it now?” Snapper said, irate.
“Does that part have to go?”
“What part?” Snapper said. He glanced down at the paper, and rolled his eyes. “You don’t need six paragraphs about how soft her hair is. For that matter, you don’t need any.”
“But-”
“No, Kara.”
She pouted. Snapper ignored her. When he got to the second page, he screwed it up and threw the whole thing at the bin.
“Don’t cut that!” Kara said, suddenly, as he reached the third page.
Painstakingly, Snapper made sure the highlighting on that passage was particularly obvious.
Kara pouted, but waited. She was used to Snapper’s tough standards of editing. No matter how harsh he was, she wouldn’t stop being proud of her article.
“Even that?” Kara said, as he continued.
Snapper looked up, incredulously.
“How relevant do you think it is that ‘she has a smile that lights up the room’?” Snapper said. “Even if that was an unbiased fact, it’s not important.”
“Have you seen her smile?” Kara said. “It’s very important.”
“I don’t know why I bother.”
He sighed. Then, almost reluctantly, he kept on reading.
“Did you just look up ‘beautiful’ in a thesaurus?” Snapper said.
Kara faltered.
“Don’t do that,” Snapper said. “Ever. If you’ve never seen a word used, don’t put it in a sentence. And- please tell me you did not just call the CEO of a major company ‘foxy.’”
“The thesaurus said it meant ‘beautiful,’” Kara said. “And foxes are known for being smart. It seemed like a good, um, double-”
“That’s not what it means,” Snapper said.
Emphatically, he rubbed the highlighter over that particular word with just enough force to wear through the paper.
Eventually he made it to the last page, only throwing two of the others in the bin without bothering to keep any. There was usually a sentence or so to salvage on the rest.
He skimmed the ending, frowning a little.
“This has more promise,” Snapper said.
“I knew that bit was-”
“Let me finish,” Snapper said. “The idea has promise, but you need to rewrite.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“’She’s gay, thank god,’” Snapper quoted. “Do you not see the problem?”
“I, uh-”
“If a figure’s willing to be out, sexual orientation is a good thing to mention,” Snapper said. “It provides variety, can help give a role model to people who want that. In that case, you simply give the marginalized group to which they belong. What you do not do, is celebrate the fact that they’re gay. It makes it sound more like you want to date them than a care about diversity.”
“Y-yeah,” Kara said. “Th-that was what I was going for. Diversity. Right.”
Snapper regarded her for a long few seconds, then despairingly put his head in his hands. It was a few moments before he looked up.
“Ok,” Snapper said, weary. “Do you think you can make those changes by this afternoon?”
“I think so,” Kara said, brightly. She scanned the papers, still on his desk. “So the bit about her warm and inviting gaze is fine?”
“What?” Snapper said. He glanced at the sheets, scowled, and slumped back. “You know what? Start over. Look at the actual word-count, try to at least keep to the order of magnitude, and please at least try to make your crush on Lena Luthor less obvious.”
“My what?” Kara laughed nervously. “I’m not- I mean, I don’t-”
“Save it,” Snapper said. “I don’t even have the energy to point out how unprofessional that is. Just come back with an article that can be printed in any publication outside of Penthouse and I’ll forget this ever happened, and believe me I want to.”
Kara hesitated.
“So, um, the facts were ok?” Kara said.
“The actual facts?” Snapper said. “Everything that wasn’t ruminating on the chatoyance of her eyes, or dear god the passion behind her smile, or running around cheering that she’s gay, was vaguely well researched.”
“I’m just asking because we set up a second interview, just in case you wanted more detail on anything,” Kara said.
“Rather less detail would be preferred,” Snapper said. Grudgingly though, he sighed. “Good instinct, though. Follow-up interviews are always useful.”
“She offered,” Kara said, beaming at the compliment. “One of her restaurants is opening soon and she’s got very exclusive reservations to-”
A groan.
“That’s a date,” Snapper said, flatly.
“Wh-what?”
“That’s not an interview. That’s a date,” he said. Another sigh.
“It is?” Kara said. She blinked, then paused, distractedly staring at the wall.
It was about a minute before Snapper had enough.
“Get out,” he said.
Kara blinked, slowly falling back to reality.
“Use the information you’ve got,” Snapper said, “Realistic length this time, less doting, and I want it by four. Got it? Good, now go!”
“R-right away,” Kara said.
She reached to gather the article she’d submitted; Snapper pulled it away, meeting her eyes and almost daring her to try and use it as inspiration. Eventually, Kara relented.
When she pulled back, Snapper balled the article up, and threw it all into his bin. Somewhat relieved, he watched Kara go.