Lois nods, understanding that wary look all too well. Enough years of communicating volumes in a few words and glances in public--heck, in front of cameras sometimes--has made her quite adept at reading a lot of nuances in his body language as a rule. It sucks that they can't be sure they're alone. There's so much she can't say.

(Even if possibly he's already ruined some of that saying he missed her voice--oh well, the kedan don't really know how blurry things get with Superman and Lois Lane.)

"Has he given any sign how long that might take?" she asks, her head slightly tilted.

"Radio's fine--even with things starting to get a bit crazy, we're on top of it." She bites her lip for a moment. "I did have something I wanted to be sure you heard, about a mutual friend of ours." She almost hopes he already heard, and from someone who could be more precise than she will be to dodge anyone who might be listening in.