#is just....

He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he certainly wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t rude, which was nice, but just because he wasn’t piggish about it didn’t mean his dismissals of her improved her opinion of him. He was an officer, going about his job, and completely unresponsive to her flirtations. Well, for the most part. The only rise she could get out of him was trying to see how long he’d play the gentleman while she pushed his limits.

But at the very least he was the highest ranking member of the Victorian Police Force she’d met, so she made sure to have a direct line to him.

It wasn’t until the incident on the train that he piqued her interest. Until he pointed out the exact caliber of her firearm, while she was claiming battery with a shoe, that she saw something of a wise man in Jack. He knew when and where to pick his battles, especially with her. And it was later on, when she’d had time to reflect, that she would look back on this moment and realize that while she had sized him up and found him uninteresting, and therefore not worth another thought, he had sized her up just the same. She wonders what conclusions he came to.

She was used to people, especially men, doing that. But the outcome usually went one of two ways: if they found her intriguing, they would flirt with her. If they found her untolerable, they would make sure she knew. 

Jack… well, originally, she thought Jack would fall into the second category. And yet again he proved her wrong. 

It was the first nightcap that brought him out of her mental dismissal. He slid into the possibility of being a help in her work, or at the very least, not an enemy.

The murder at the Green Mill changed a lot of things. Jack remained dull, reserved, but he was more friendly. Encouraging Hugh to ask Dot to the dance. She was even more surprised about his handling of sensitive topics. 

How he dealt with the photographs spoke volumes. Jack was held to the law, and then he passed them to her hands, and asked her to do what he could not. 

And it was in that moment, right as it happened, that Phryne realized: this is a noble man. A man who sees right and wrong, who goes into the world to keep it safe, to protect the weak and right wrongs. But a man who sees that the law is not infallible. That things are not black and white. 

For the first time she is thoroughly impressed by Jack Robinson. 

It colors how she sees him, after that. A noble man, with a hidden love for fun. If she pushes, just enough, she gets to see glimpses of it. He becomes… pleasant. For the first time she, well, happy isn’t the right word, but she isn’t upset to have to deal with him.

Somewhere around the time they are hunting for the philosophers stone, and finding rubber instead, she gets to see his mind at work. Their thoughts bounce so quickly, like a conversation they’ve rehearsed, that it takes her a moment to realize: oh. She’s speaking with someone clever. 

He’s holding the flame under the paper to reveal a secret formula, and she looks at him. She can see the gears working in his mind, in the furrow of his brows and the small frown at his mouth. How has it taken her this long to realize it? 

He’s someone almost as clever as herself. And isn’t that a rare thing indeed. 

Jack goes from being Jack the Nondescript, to Jack the Noble, to Jack the Clever.