May 24, 2017
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
He watched as she sat on the edge of one of the boxes, casually kicking at the dirt with her shoes and looking around the alleyway. Jack had to give her credit; the bored expression and slumped shoulders would have convinced him, had he not known. His mind flashed back to images of a woman with a long back plait and a strategically sequinned outfit, and he frowned.
Jane is a mini-Phryne sometimes.