Violet Baudelaire sat next to the missing-no-more Quagmire triplet, Quigley. They sat, not on a couch, or a pew in a church, but on a ledge just big enough for them to sit on, halfway up a frozen waterfall, forks attached to their shoes, and large coats keeping them warm from the freezing Mortmain Mountain air. As they sat, hip to hip, they talked, about Violet's time at Prufrock Prepatory School, with Quigley's fellow triplets, Duncan and Isadora. "So they really helped you study by running the laps that Count Olaf had ordered you to run every night from after dinner until sunup?" Quigley asked, his dark eyes widening behind his glasses.
Violet nodded, her shoulder length brown hair tied up with a ribbon, a sign that her mind was frantically clicking away at inventing something. But she had already invented something. Two somethings. She tied forks to the bottom of their shoes as a sort of impromptu climbing equipment, aiding them in their climb up the frozen waterfall. She had two more forks as handheld climbing tools. She had picked up a half-melted candelabra as an ice-tester, to make sure that the ice was thick enough to support their weight as they made their way up the waterfall, to Violet's youngest sibling, Sunny, who had been captured by Count Olaf and his accomplices. Their middle sibling, Klaus was down at the destroyed VFD headquarters, searching for clues, for he was the much better researcher. So Violet and Quigley, the Quagmire triplet believed to have died in a mysterious fire that burned down his family's home, had decided to climb up the waterfall, to save Sunny. But they had grown tired, and were resting on the ledge, sitting close. Violet's brown eyes met Quigley's as she replied, "Yes. And they dressed up a bag of flour as Sunny, and drug it along behind them," causing Quigley to laugh.
After a few moments of shared laughter, they calmed then Quigley turned to Violet, asking, "How well did you know Duncan...at Prufrock Prep?"
"We were good friends, for the short time we were there. We shared our silverware, when the other would get in trouble, and so on," Violet replied, getting a faraway look in her eyes.
"Did he...did Duncan...did he make any...advances?" Quigley asked, his already pink cheeks, kissed by the stinging wind, became a deeper pink, almost the same color as a flamingo.
Violet's cheek flushed with color, mirroring Quigley's. "He did...the night before they were kidnapped," She replied, looking down at her gloved hands.
"Did he...do this?" Quigley asked, taking her gloved hand in his, turning to face her slightly.
Violet looked up, her startled eyes meeting his, moments before he leaned forward, his eyelids slipped closed and he pressed his cool mouth against hers. She inhaled sharply at the contact, then stilled, her eyes slipping closed as well. Quigley's lips parted, his warm tongue darting out to trace the seam of her lips. Violet's lips parted on a sigh, and Quigley's tongue slipped into her heated mouth, like a small animal entering a cave to keep shelter from the cold. Violet brushed her tongue against his unsurely, having not kissed someone before. Quigley lifted his other hand, the other still holding hers, and traced her jawline, then cupped her face with his hand, holding her close, as close as one can sitting on a narrow ledge halfway up a frozen waterfall. After a few minutes, they parted, their lips swollen and red from their kissing.
They blushed, gracing one another with hopeful smiles. Not just smiles filled with the hope that they will save Sunny, or that Quigley will find his siblings again, or that Violet, Klaus, and Sunny will see one of their parents again, or even that Count Olaf will be imprisoned for his horrible crimes against them and their families. But smiles filled with the hope that once all the seemingly unfortunate events in their lives cease, they will be able to do what they did on the ledge, on the frozen waterfall, halfway up one of the Mortmain mountains.