skinside_inside
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"The forward hold," Bartlett repeats, without much enthusiasm. "What, now?"
"Yes."
"It's half two in the bloody morning, Mac. Just what's in there that can't wait for nineteen-fourteen to put its pants on and read the morning paper?"
"An interesting acoustic dead area."
Bartlett looks blank. "What."
"It's soundproof, or nearly so."
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"I like it."
"—so there's no need to make a…what?"
It had been rather a blurt, and my cheeks were a little hot as I repeated, "I like your fluff. Immensely, actually. It's one of my favourite parts of you. I don't like to see you bothered about it."
Birdie began to laugh, and then stopped at my indignant look. "Oh you're—you're being serious. Well that's… I mean… why would you?"