#22, Phryne/Jack please!
22. I love your silences, they are like mine. (Phryne/Jack, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries)
The one thing – the only thing, perhaps – that Phryne had never expected from any relationship with a man was peace and quiet. All the men she’d ever been drawn to had been as equally repelled by the very notion, and, well. It wasn’t as though she was exactly formed for the quiet life.
But oh, it was blissful sometimes to simply curl up before the fire, with Jack’s arm round her shoulder and a glass of good whiskey in her hand, and spend hours gazing into the flames, saying nothing at all. And then to finish their drinks and rise to go to bed, locking eyes and smiling as though they’d just shared an evening of delightful and stimulating conversation.
In their own way, she liked to think, they rather had.
There was a lot that could be said, after all, in the silence.
