It was difficult for Jack to tell whether whatever it was ended just because it ended, or whether Phryne's little shocked gasp of his name snapped him out of it. Either way, he broke the kiss immediately upon regaining his good sense and stepped back. River was objectively quite pretty, but the overwhelming draw of her was gone, and he could hardly believe it had existed.

The dead part of him, that space that let him survive writing letter after letter to soon-to-be-grieving parents and sweethearts, thought Ah, so that's what's been happening. Every other part of him, though, had no idea what to do. Clearly and correctly, Phryne was hurt and offended, but for some reason the truth of 'I couldn't help it' or 'this bloody goddamn day' seemed like base excuses. Vile ones. Since he couldn't find words, he tried to stare his shock, regret, and flat confusion at Phryne, and hoped her perceptiveness wouldn't fail them both.