Jack Robinson was terrible at dressing up. One tuxedo was all a man needed and he was proficient in smartening up but the invitation specified fancy dress and he cursed his luck. He'd done his best over the years but there were only so many times he could avoid it. The situation was dire and he had only a hour before he was due to go to the party. He wasn't sure what to do next. Digging through the box of forgotten useless items, he came across that knitted Archie vest. He sighed. What kind of costume was that? A radio personage? He'd have to do better than that. He just didn't know what.

The door slammed open and Doctor Mac strode in.

'Ready, Inspector?'

He turned around with the offending knit in his despairing hands.

'Not really, Doctor. I have nothing to wear.'

She looked at the sorry handful and shook her head.

'Good God man, what are you planning to go as?'

She was dressed in a tuxedo much like his, with her usual cravat at her throat. Jack disliked cravats. He thought men who wore them were a bit too suave. Or maybe too artistic? But he didn't know what he thought of women wearing them. He had never thought about it. Mac was the only woman he knew who wore them. He wasn't sure if he liked them any more or less on her.

He muttered about not liking fancy dress parties. Mac shook out the knitted monstrosity and threw it aside. She would donate it to the orphan fund, it was very soft regardless of its unfortunate ugliness.

'Let's see what you've got.'

He had nothing of note, apart from his own tux which she ruled out as the last resort. She couldn't find a thing. She looked back at him and he shrugged. Told you, so he said. She rummaged and found his least worn three-piece suit, the one he wore for occasions. It was blue grey, faintly checked and of the best quality he could afford. She bet Phryne hadn't seen it often. Perfect, she said. Those are my work clothes, he protested. Ah but…she said. He wore his best shoes, the brown wingtip brogues with the burgundy sole. They were extravagant in their own way and if it wasn't for them being a present, he never would have had a pair.

She left the room while he hastily dressed in his suit and best shirt and came back, grabbing his best tie and throwing it aside. He objected to the harsh treatment of the tie that Phryne gave his for his birthday. He didn't have to say it was his favourite, all of them knew it. Mac smiled wickedly and produced something out of her pocket that made him back away.

'No.'

'It's fancy dress' she wheedled. 'Come on Jack.'

He couldn't remember when the advancement of their friendship was that led to them calling each other by their personal preferences. But it didn't feel out of place like he thought it would.

'I'd rather not, Elizabeth' he teased. Mac narrowed her eyes at him. She didn't like to be referred to by her first name. She never felt like an Elizabeth. She slapped him with it.

'Put. It. On. Now.'

She wasn't fucking around. Jack knew that expression. Did best friends channel each other? He didn't know. Mac was every bit as challenging as Phryne. He knew that he needed to get a move on and wear the dammed cravat. Seeing his defeated expression, Mac swiftly threw it round his neck and arranged it. He looked in the mirror and saw a burgundy swath sheathing his throat. It matched the lining of his coat. He liked that lining. It spoke to him, although he wasn't sure what. He was attracted to it because of that unusual feature.

He grimaced and accepted it with a heavy sigh. Mac saw him rolling his eyes and told him his hair needed sorting, in revenge. He looked at her in bewilderment. She took his face towel and scrubbed at his carefully pomaded hair. She could see that there was a wave to it. Free from its restraints, it curled becomingly like a Regency maiden's. Mac tried to supress a smile. It softened his face a lot and she could see why he kept it severely slicked back. Few people could take a foppishly haired Inspector seriously. Phryne would love this morning bedhead look on him. She arranged the curls to its natural side parting and rumpled it a bit. He wasn't sure of this. Her hands were gentle and her perfume fresh and citrussy, a hint of lemon myrtle. Her blue eyes wordlessly flirted with his in a way that reminded him of Phryne. That didn't feel as strange as it sounded. She stepped back, admired her handiwork; took her hat off and placed it on his head for the finishing touch. It just about fit.

'Tonight you are dressed as me, Inspector.'

He looked in the mirror and saw that he almost did look like her. He could see her knotting his favourite tie on her, she'd swapped neckwear with him.

'Tonight I will be you.'

She gave him a wicked grin that he returned. He had gone this far so he accepted a few dabs of the chestnut colour lipstick she wore and a few sprays of Jicky that Phryne had left on his table last time she came over for a nightcap. It was an intimate gesture and made him feel like they should be sleeping together. He liked the perfume on Phryne so he dared to wear it himself just for tonight. He knew he'd never do this kind of thing again (resisting the idea of wearing the perfume again sometime), but he felt somewhat at liberty to be a little different tonight. He might drink a bit more than usual. He might exchange more glances with Miss Fisher that he usually dared to in public. He might even escort her to a dark alcove to kiss her senseless. He loved a flustered Miss Fisher as much as he loved her smart and in control.

'Our chariot awaits.'

They went downstairs to the Hispano where Miss Fisher sat waiting, radiant in her scarlet Milady de Winter costume. She wouldn't have minded her own musketeer to accompany her even though she knew Jack wasn't keen on fancy dress.

He was gratified to see her look of surprise and pleasure as she spotted him alongside Mac, the two of them effortlessly swapping roles. It wasn't often he got to shock Miss Fisher but it was well worth it when he did. He would make sure she would be suitably ruffled by the end of the night. He was looking forward to it.