strangetrip | [GP] Shoot that poison arrow

None of the guests noticed when the spiky-haired man-child in jeans and purple t-shirt, wrists wrapped in cheap leather and metal bracelets, arrived at the Madonna Inn a few hours before midnight on February 13. That, in itself, wasn't all that surprising. Eros, otherwise known as Danny Valentine, had millennia of experience doing his job without being spotted.

What was surprising was that the dude at the front desk did see him. Tall and Nondescript waved him over and then gave him a room number 'in case you wanted to rest'. But Danny didn't.

Want to, or rest. He spent the time before the clock struck midnight polishing his love gun. Not like that. He'd find a girl to spend his nameday with. He always did. No, this little beauty was made by Hephaestus himself. It shot love darts that disappeared on contact.

At midnight, kitted out with more love darts than there were people in this pink and gold monstrosity, Danny left his room and shot the first person he saw--and didn't wait to see what would happen.

No point getting a slow start. He had a lot of work to do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Phryne looked for guilt in Jack's expression when he turned to her but found none. If she hadn't seen him draw the woman toward him, she would readily believe that River Song had initiated it. Would that she hadn't, so that misunderstanding would permit her to slap the other woman for assaulting her dear, gentlemanly Jack, but she would tolerate no falsehood in herself once she had identified it.

Instead of slapping River Song, or indeed Jack, neither of whom deserved it, Phryne strode toward them. Without so much as a glance for the other woman, or a word to Jack, she took advantage of the generally libertine atmosphere to curl her hand around the back of Jack's neck and haul him to her instead. And when she had had him properly close enough to feel her breath across his lips murmured, "The next time you have an itch, darling, remember this," and kissed him, full on the mouth, with all of the passion she possessed and all of her knowledge of him in it.

Thank God, forgiven. Or understood at the very least. No doubt there would be talking involved later, but as Phryne hadn't turned from him now, she wasn't going to. The relief barely had time to course through Jack before his dear Miss Fisher's mouth on his aroused more honest desire than whatever had thrown him at River Song.

The shocked, firm line of his mouth softened into acceptance and then welcome, even hunger, and for one, sweet moment, Phryne forgot everything but the heat coursing between them. Sense returned quickly and awareness of having an audience, and abruptly Phryne recalled Rene hauling her away from friends--and so released Jack to back away.

She gave River Song a single, sharp glance. Her mouth trembled when she looked at Jack, gaze shining with emotion, and before she did or said anything she could regret, she turned and strode away, exactly as tall and straight as she had come.

"Well that was awkward," River said once Phryne was out of earshot. Her expression was wry as she too watched the other woman walk away.

That was the walk of a woman who had some things on her mind. And most of them were not good.

"Will she ever speak to me again do you think?" She asked Jack.

"I imagine she will." Jack watched her go, too, trying to determine the exact level of worried he should be. Not much, in some ways, quite a bit in others, perhaps? "Miss Fisher rarely holds grudges, at least about this sort of thing."

"This sort of thing?" She arched a brow, she didn't know the other woman well, but she thought a grudge might be held. Kissing her man had to result in some grudge.

"Shall we talk about this 'sort of thing' or chalk it up to losing our minds a bit?" Okay so she's been perfectly sensible, but she wasn't the one with a woman in the wings.

"I'm happy enough to stick with 'losing our minds'." It seemed to be happening a lot, after all, and if he'd fallen prey it should not be a surprise. Jack doubted that River's mind had been anywhere near lost, though that was a level of dissimulation that was safe to let past.

You could argue that there was degrees of losing one's mind, and perhaps not much minding being summarily snogged by a strange man was a sign of some little bit of mind loss.

"Will she understand do you think? Not that it wasn't a lovely kiss, but I did rather enjoy her company. I'd hate to have made an enemy."

[GP] Shoot that poison arrow

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne

Re: Jack Robinson - For River S and Phryne