Acaiga's "Pleasant Prompts"

A/N: This will be my little project going forwards, and I'm really looking forward to developing it. This chapter was inspired by a quote I found online somewhere, it's not mine, likewise with the characters and Skulduggery Pleasant itself. I only own the idea of this short story. Enjoy, and remember: Authors really, really appreciate your reviews, and they motivate us to write quicker and with better quality!

Prompt One: Dance

"How'd you find me anyway?"

"I'm a Detective. It's what I do."

"My mother told you, didn't she?"

Valkyrie sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the pier, letting the breeze ruin her curled hair. Parties were loud, especially family gatherings. Getting accustomed to being around Alice and her family again had been difficult - incredibly so - but she was getting there, even if the guilt hadn't entirely faded. Most of the time Skulduggery was nearby, ready to take her back to Grimwood or to his house should she ever begin to feel uneasy.

Why couldn't things ever be simple? Why did she have to ruin everything?

Snap out of it, Valkyrie. This attitude isn't going to get you anywhere, she thought, and shook her head as if to physically remove the thought. Like an Etch-a-Sketch, she added, and laughed despite herself.

"There you are," a familiar voice spoke, and she sighed, patting the spot on the pier beside her. Skulduggery obliged, sitting down next to her and resting his forearm on the knee that he kept raised.

"I needed air," she explained, and Skulduggery nodded.

"Ah. Gatherings can be stifling," he agreed, and she looked sideways at him.

"I know I should spend more time with them, I know, but I'm getting there. It's gonna take me awhile, but I will."

"I know you will," he said, then with a slightly more enthusiastic tone, "but there was cake, and I can't eat it. You can though, so it's wasted."

She snorted. "Cake sounds good, but... I'm just not in the mood. How did you find me, anyways?"

"I'm a Detective. Finding people, my dear Valkyrie, is what I do."

"Mum told you, didn't she?"

"There was some parental guidance provided, I will admit." She elbowed him in his side, and he chuckled softly. "There's dancing, though. We could go back to do some dancing."

"What, to make up for the dancing you didn't ask me to partake in at the Requiem ball all those years ago?" She quipped, and he made a sound of vague indignance.

"I would have, but -"

"But what?"

"But nothing. How about I make it up to you now?" He got to his feet, and offered his hand. After a moment of debating whether to take his hand or help herself up, she took it. He borrowed her phone, played a slow song she couldn't put a name to, and the music mingled with the crashing of the waves on the shore nearby. She brushed down the hem of the dress she was wearing - a pretty black A-line that reached her knees - and accepted his offer to dance.

One hand holding hers and the other resting at her waist, he began to move with the music, bringing her along with him. His movements were flawless and fluid, and she screwed up the steps occasionally, but she laughed and so did he, and it felt nice for a change. Neither seriousness or weirdness, just comfortable companionship.

"And, if I may just say, you look beautiful tonight."

"Shut up, you goon. But you are right."