"I'm not sure my kisses could be compelled by sprigs of parasitic greenery." it quivers, her voice, but retains a certain note of humor, if only for their audience, for the flutter of silver-clad Jane waving that overly-romanticized poison above their heads.

"Hemiparasitic," he supplies a helpful correction, but his eyes say rather more than he'd ever be able to say with so many people present - a kiss would not be the worst thing in the world, even if the circumstances were not as ideal for them as they had been for Hugh and Dot. "Of the genus viscum."

Against her will, or maybe exactly as she wants, her body tilts into his, pressing close to his warmth - she still feels the chill of the tunnels, despite having been thoroughly warmed and examined by Mac - and she lifts her head to speak softly. "I'll take your word for it."

"Though, I rather say, Miss Fisher," Jack Robinson is no longer a man of missed opportunity, and this is one, he intends to thank Jane for presenting him with, later. "That greenery did a fine job of pointing me in the direction, by which I might obtain my Christmas wish."

"You mean, you still make Christmas wishes, Detective Inspector?" a voice made of smoke and sugar, warming him, teasing him, tugging him ever closer into her essence.

"I do, indeed." he offers her a half-smile and eyes bright with humor and challenge. He knows she simply cannot resist a challenge, when it is presented to her, and this will prove no different.

"Okay, I'll bite," Phryne nudges him. "What is it?"

"I could tell you but," he shifts his gaze to the greenery, still cradled in Jane's hold. "Jane presented me with the opportunity and I think showing you would be far more effective."

Phryne is pressed against him, such that he feels her breath catch, rather than hearing it. All the better for him, really, because only then would he able to observe the part of her lusciously red lips, the droop of her eyelids, and the shift of anticipation. Jack is not quite sure one can ever be ready for the luxury that is fitting their mouth over Phryne Fisher's, that is tasting her, but oh, is it one he looks forward to treating himself to, and often, if she will allow him the indulgence.

"You hardly needed a Christmas wish or a silly sprig to do that, Jack." Phryne breathes, thumbing the lipstick from his mouth, catching his bottom lip in the most intimate gesture of affection afforded to her without scandalizing Aunt Prudence any further, or scarring poor Jane.

"Indulgence is selfish, Miss Fisher." Jack sounds ravished, voice barely a rasp scraping from his throat, and the kiss-bitten lip underneath her thumb is gorgeously swollen.

"A kiss is only a selfish indulgence if one party is not willing." Phryne murmurs, removing her finger from his mouth to slip along the sharp line of his jaw. "I think you'll find me a willing participant, if you'd like to further indulge in those selfish desires of yours."

"Perhaps, I will."