'Violet,' muttered Quigley, trying not to meet her eyes, but also trying not to look down the dizzying, slippery slope, 'may we have a Very Frank Discussion?'
Although she was intensely focused on the task at hand, Violet looked up from her half-melted candelabra. The phrase 'may we have a Very Frank Discussion?' was certainly an intriguing phrase, as it could be the precursor to any number of conversations, revealing any number of interesting truths. But something in the tone of the triplet's voice made her feel as though she knew what he might say. However, she was 14 years old and the scope of her experience, although expansive for her age, did not include the tone of voice she was hearing targeted at her. She had heard it before though, and it made her quite intrigued. So, following the advice of the anxious feeling in her stomach she said: 'Of course, Quigely.'
His eyes had been fixed on the side of her face, but as she looked up to answer him he quickly glanced away. His voice was stuck in his throat. The words he had decided to say were building up in his mouth like a waterfall. This particular waterfall was not frozen solid, and eventually the force of it pushed his mouth open.
'Violet, you didn't know I was alive until earlier today, but I was, so to speak, following in your footsteps. You and I have also shared several life experiences, and are inexorably mixed up with each other. Since my parents were killed in that fire, I've been in a lot of situations that I never thought I would be, and I've had people I care about disappear and die in a moment's notice. That being said, I've made a resolution to not let opportunities pass.' Here he sighed, and gave her a wistful glance. Violet had an idea that she knew what he might be beginning to say, and interrupted.
'Quigley, look to your left. See that ledge? It would probably hold us. We could finish this frank discussion while taking a break from climbing, if you like.' Nervously, Quigley agreed, shifting a little, and forking his way over to the ledge, making sure to follow once again in Violet's precisely forked footsteps.
Once they were both seated as comfortably as possible on the uncomfortable, icy ledge, Violet continued her interruption. 'Quigley, I know what you mean. Too often since the fire I have seen opportunities arise and then sink away, like when your siblings tried to tell us about VFD, and we told them to tell us later, or even the day of the fire, when my siblings and I went to the beach. If we had stayed home, we might have been able to prevent the fire, or might at least have been able to say goodbye.'
Sighing, Violet untied the ribbon on her hair. 'Quigley, in the interest of Very Frank Discussing, I think I would like you to kiss me.' Quigley could hardly believe his ears. 'You do? You really do?' Violet wrinkled her nose a little, and said 'I think so, but I've never actually kissed someone or wanted to kiss someone, so I can't be sure. I would like to try, if that's alright with you.'
Quigley Quagmire moved closer along the icy ledge. Purposefully, he put his two hands on Violet's cheeks, and looked in her eyes carefully. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. Violet kissed him back, with the all the passion of past opportunities lost.
It took two seconds for the orphans to overcome the initial shock of a first kiss, and start longing for a second one. One of Quigley's hands was now on Violet's hip, and both of hers were gripping the collar of his shirt. She pulled him closer to keep kissing him. He moaned.
The taste of her. The smoothness of her tongue gliding into his mouth. It was almost too much. His hand on her cheek glided to the back of her head, fingers in her hair. At this, Violet slid down onto her back, with Quigley on top of her, kissing him like she might never again get the chance. A low groan built in Quigley's body, and he pulled away to place kisses on her naked neck, on her cold collarbone, on her soft shoulder. Violet responded with a squeal of surprise, which doubled as a squeal of excitement, and tripled as a squeal of determination.
She reached a hand up to his hair, tugging a little to make Quigley look at her. She took a deep breath, partially for bravery, and partially because Quigley had just started to unbutton her blouse under her sweatshirt. 'Quigley, you're very well-read, you know.'
He stopped cold, although they were both cold, kissing each other on an icy ledge of a frozen waterfall, somewhere in the Mortmain Mountains. His voice was low and husky, and a little anxious. 'Yes. So are you, Violet.' She shifted a little, so she was more comfortable. 'Have you ever read anything about, well, sex?'. The eldest Baudelaire was blushing and she squirmed a little, not looking at him, waiting for him to answer.
Instinctively, Quigley kissed her again, harder, pulling away to gently bite the skin below her ear. 'Well, I would be lying if I said I hadn't. And I assume you have too. Although it might be kind of embarrassing, it's natural.' His hand found hers, he slipped his fingers into hers. 'Why?' His voice cracked a little. 'Would you like to?'