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War Stories

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When Phryne awoke, Jack was snoring softly behind her. She smiled at the sound. She didn’t get to wake up before him very often and she loved the opportunity to see him completely at ease. As much as she loved the man, he rarely let his guard completely down. 

She turned over to see what was in store for her this morning and what she saw made her gasp and sit up. 


“Hmm?” He asked, waking immediately. It was an old skill from being permanently on call for homicides. 

“What happened to your eye?!” She asked.


“A quarter of your face is blacked out,” she reminded him.

“Oh.” He winced as he remembered the bruise. “It met a drunkard’s elbow. Hazard of the job,” he yawned.

“Some elbow.”

“It was my own fault,” he said as he closed his eyes again. “They brought a man into the cells to let him sleep off his drunken stupor and he was screaming for help in German, so I, being the intelligent man that I am, answered in German, thinking that it would set him at ease. But in his delusions, he thought that he was being put back into a German prison camp, so it produced the exact opposite effect and he cracked me one.” 

“Oh no.” Phryne frowned in amused sympathy at his good intentions going awry.

“Considering the amount of drink that he had in him, his aim was actually quite impressive,” he smirked. “Would have loved to have seen him in the trenches.” 

"Did it hurt?" She asked as she looked it over.

"Only my pride," he replied dryly as he tucked his arm under his pillow. 

She didn’t believe him.

"Would you like me to get you something from the icebox to put over it?" She asked as she brushed back his hair. 

“No, I would like to go back to sleep.” 

"Alright," she kissed his temple lightly. "When you wake up, I'll teach you how to cover that up with powder. No one will ever have to know.”

His growl filled her with impish joy and she practically bounced out of bed, ready to start her day.