The phone line went dead without so much as a goodbye, and Phryne laughed smokily. She already liked the young man, but to find he dispensed with stuffy proprieties was simply delightful. Almost certainly, he had no idea he'd done so, but the lack of pretension was refreshing. She planned to enjoy his company immensely.

A quick call to Dot added pastry to the fruit and cheese she'd already been nibbling on, and a coffee and tea service to the champagne she had chilling, but beyond that, Phryne left the room as it was--not quite the whirlwind that Dot had first encountered with stockings on the chandeliers and Mary Janes on the bureau, but certainly not especially tidy.

Her person required a bit more straightening than the room. Telephone flirtation aside, Phryne had very little thought to entertain Vax'ildan in a room Jack frequented. Best then not to encourage it by receiving him in deshabille. Without Mr. Butler to hold him off, she chose a simple outfit of white on white with red accents and red lipstick that left her enough time to make up her eyes, unlock and prop open the door, and then flop back onto the couch with a book to await her guest.

Still in the grip of yesterday's affliction, Phryne retired early and dismissed Dot for the evening. Distress in no small part due to not having been able to find a rational cause for the lust outbreak, she sought to distract herself with a mystery novel. But the inspector had none of Jack's cleverness or finesse, and she soon found herself wandering aimlessly from one room of her suite to the next.

That was the other part of the distress, she was woman enough to admit. Jack. It had hurt unbelievably to see him kiss another woman. Even knowing the truth of why, the mental image made her chest ache and her jaw clench. It was uncomfortable for more reasons than one.

"Fie," she muttered, turned on her heel and called room service (which usually amounted to one of the bartenders cashiering the nearest available person to roll the cart to her room).

An hour, a cocktail, and a long soak later found her draped over her sitting room couch with another novel (this one with a female sleuth) and another cocktail, dressed to please herself and no one else.

The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher was bored.

Not a murder, not a theft, not even a puzzle to test her wits for almost two weeks. She couldn't pack up and find adventure elsewhere. There wasn't even a decent party to distract herself with.

Oh, she supposed she could find a young man to entertain her, but what she had with Jack was so new and fresh, and he had taken so long to come around to it, she didn't care to exercise that particular freedom yet. Although if she had to take many more lukewarm showers, she might change her mind.

Regardless, she had no intention of being one of those women who, upon being bored, hung around the necks of their men like nooses. It wasn't Jack's job to entertain her, no matter how willing he might be. She would just have to find some way to entertain herself.

"Now," she said to the air as she strolled back toward the hotel after a bracing walk. "If you were an adventure hiding in this hotel, where would you be?"

"Now, this is how one ought to be held captive."

For a few glorious moments while Dot busied herself unpacking her trunk, Phryne allowed herself to go from room to room in the beautifully appointed suite, surveying it as a guest in a hotel rather than a woman possibly magically trapped outside of time. The soft blue and rose gold palette soothed senses overstimulated by the riotous color of the lobby and shops. Satin, silk, natural light and not one but two balconies appealed to her love of luxury and appeased pathological loathing of the small, filthy and mean developed in her youth.

Having ducked out onto the east-access balcony, Phryne now called to Dot. "Come and look, Dot. The lights are beautiful." And so plentiful. Displays like this had been unthinkable in Melbourne.