Work Text:
Jack stood at his usual station by the fireplace, leaning on the mantle and holding a tumbler of whiskey. He swirled the amber-colored liquor absently and stood there regarding Phryne. She was resplendent in all red. The color of her lipstick. The color of his hidden passions, which were legion and untried, and barely held in check.
Phryne smirked at him over the rim of her own whiskey. She wanted—oh how she wanted—to jump him right then and there, but she held herself back for some reason. That was very unlike her, she thought, frowning, but there was nothing for it, even though he looked so very handsome, standing there with one of his large, expressive hands on his hip. So instead she brought up their recent case.
Jack sighed, and joined her in discussing the case.
“...and then I did something very clever,” Phryne said, in response to his query.
“That’s remarkable,” Jack remarked.
Phryne frowned, abruptly ending the conversation.
“What?” said Jack, concerned.
She looked around the room suspiciously, slowly coming to a conclusion.
“Jack,” said Phryne suddenly, “help me break down this wall.”
“What wall—oh,” he said in sudden understanding, as they both turned to look at me, scowling.
Uh-oh.
“What is this?” said Phryne in horror as it sank in.
“‘“That’s remarkable,” Jack remarked’? What is this utter drivel you are putting in my mouth?”
“Are you sure you have enough quotes?” said Phryne sarcastically. “Yeah,” she added in a stage whisper, “I think they got the sarcasm.”
But Jack wasn’t finished. “This is pablum, this is...”
“Tripe,” said Phryne.
“I rather like tripe,” said Jack.
“You’ll eat anything,” said Phryne.
Fair enough, he shrugged.
“Good GOD,” said Jack, “what are those first two paragraphs? That’s just... embarrassing.”
“Downright rude, if you ask me,” said Phryne.
“And it’s mantel, E-L,” said Jack.
“At least she got the E in ‘tumbler’,” said Phryne.
“Small mercies,” said Jack.
He took a closer look.
“What is THIS?!” he said, eyeing my notes with a critical eye. Phryne scowled, shaking her head.
“‘Avenues to explore,’” he read. “‘Possible gunshot wound? Jack or Phryne? Amnesia?’” He looked at me, disgusted. “Is this a soap opera? What, no evil twin?”
Oh my god that’s great! Wait, let me write that down!
“STOP!” said Jack, “ARE YOU MAD?!”
“Wait,” said Phryne with a gasp, “it’s YOU!” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “All this time I thought it was Aunt Prudence, but no, it’s YOU!”
“What?” said Jack, and then it dawned on him.
“‘Dawned on him’, really?” muttered Phryne. “The man is hardly stupid.”
“WHAT?!?!?” said Jack, both enraged and outraged. “YOU’RE THE ONE?!?!?”
“Good Lord,” said Phryne rolling her eyes, “even I know a simple interrobang will do.”
“We can’t even manage to KISS,” said Jack, “without some ridiculous twist of fate getting in the way, and now you’re telling me it’s all for some kind of sick plot point?! To string it along? To heighten tension? All those old lovers with no backstory suddenly springing up out of the blue, all the times we weren’t talking to each other because of some flimsy misunderstanding, all the missed opportunities, all the interruptions by elderly relatives, that was just so you could get your sick jollies off?!”
“It’s not my fault!” I protested. “That wasn’t me. This is fan fiction. You’re waaaay more likely to get laid in fan fi—”
“If this is supposed to be some kind of exquisite agony,” continued Jack, “you’re dead wrong, sister. This is just agony. Miserable, brutal, sick, evil agony. What kind of twisted soul does this to someone?”
“Yeah,” said Phryne, frowning.
“Someone you’re supposed to like, even. This is— this is— this is just atrocious! Sick, twisted, enraging, perverse, obscene—”
“Actually I rather like the sound of that last part,” said Phryne.
“That’s IT!” growled Jack, as he stormed out of the room.
“Jack!” cried Phryne, “Where are you going?!”
“To get my police revolver, and end this once and for all!”
I hit cloverleaf-W without saving then, in a near-panic.
O_o That was close.