All this time I'd thought we were strangers, and it turned out we knew each other intuitively, in our bones, in our blood. It was kind of romantic.
...
Stephanie watched the ice cubes clink around her glass. She had been demoted today. Well, demoted might have been a strong word for it, but it was the same difference.
It was a slow night at the bar. The patrons oozed in and out, stealing glasses and leaving in pairs. Stephanie sank further and further into her drink, the gentle life of the bar her background static. The owner handed her another glass, and Stephanie nodded to her.
When she had first come here, Stephanie had hated the bar. The alcohol stung and the patrons looked at her with watery eyes. But the house was too quiet, too large, and so Stephanie wandered until she found herself here.
It was smoky. The haze drifted in front of Stephanie's eyes and through her brain, pleasantly muffled. She could stay here forever, in this not-time. It was just the drink and the chatter forever, as long as she didn't stumble back to her car.
"Is this seat taken?"
The voice was like an electric jolt. Stephanie looked up, blinked.
"I don't think so. I'll just arrest anyone who bothers you, if it is."
She watched him. His hat was pulled low over his sunglasses, and the scarf was up to where his ears must have been. He waved away the bartender, and Stephanie had the strange feeling that he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
She suddenly felt very foolish with her drink and ponytail. She felt twelve again.
"Not the most reputable of places for a Garda to find herself," he finally said, turning his stool toward her.
"Well, I'm not exactly the best Garda." She had said it harsher than she meant to.
"Long day?"
"Stupid day." Stephanie rubbed her eyes. "Sorry."
"Please, it's no trouble."
"What are you doing here, anyways? You didn't follow the Garda car, because I changed it out. Unless... Unless you tailed me."
Skulduggery laughed. "No, I didn't tail you. I happen to be here on business, but I was misinformed." He waited a second. "Come here often?"
Something about the question made Stephanie look away. "What business?"
"Secret business."
"What?" She looked back at him. "Tell me."
"Unfortunately, I can't. I want to, trust me. I do many interesting things, many dangerous things, and many, many secret things. But you, being in the place of authority, may see it befit of the law to arrest me. Or, even worse, interfere."
"Are you a jewel thief?"
"What about my description led you to believe I was a jewel thief?"
"Went with my gut. It's dangerous and exciting." She shrugged, smiled. "Tell me."
"You're a very rude woman." His head tilted, and she knew he was amused. "Very well: I'm a detective."
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure all those cheating husbands appreciate the fact you break the sound barrier speeding to their motels."
"I'm not exactly for-hire to rich wives. I investigate murders. I save the world."
Stephanie laughed. "Really?"
Skulduggery leaned closer, and Stephanie's reflexes were too dull for her to pull away.
"Really." His voice was low and devoid of humor.
Stephanie could feel her eyebrows draw together. "Do you work for the government?"
"One of them."
"Why are you here?"
She could feel Skulduggery looking at her through the glasses. She wondered what he saw there, why he was talking to her. His head tilted back in forth, like he was debating two options in his mind.
"I should go."
The chair scraped as he stood up. It took a moment to register in Stephanie's brain that he was walking towards the door. She followed, pushing through people that moved easily out of Skulduggery's path and into hers.
Cold air hit her like a fist as she stepped out onto the street. Skulduggery's dark suit was almost lost against the shadows of the night, but she caught sight of him and hurried after. She grabbed his arm—he was so thin.
"Skulduggery, wait."
He faced her, head tilted. "You're drunk."
"And you're annoyingly cryptic! You can't just—just find me and then leave!"
"Why not?"
Stephanie felt her cheeks flush. "I don't know! You're just—you can't. When I was twelve, those few weeks ago, now. Who the hell are you?"
And for a long few moments, they just stood there. Stephanie felt the blood drain from her cheeks, and she shivered against the chill. Her head buzzed and she felt her fingers tremble slightly. She kept his gaze. A long, long silence stretched between them. She wasn't sure how to fill it.
"You shouldn't talk to me, Stephanie," he finally said.
"I thought we were over the cryptic stuff."
His head bobbed and looked away from her in annoyance. "You're perfectly normal. You have a job, a family, a life. I shouldn't be talking to you. I should leave."
"Why didn't you leave when you saw me in the bar, then?"
"Because I've been known to make some foolish decisions, and I decided to sit down next to you." One of his hands flexed, the fingers curling after extending.
...
"What?"
Skulduggery shrugged, knees bent to catch a look of her. "If it's a problem, I understand completely."
Stephanie leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his sunglasses. When that wasn't enough, she kicked the door of the Garda car open, pulling her jacket closer to her to fend off the cold. Cars rushed by, storming through the puddles. The water fell just short of them, standing there.
"Well, it's a little more than a problem. I'm on thin ice as it is, let alone if I arrest you and then let you escape with a filing cabinet."
"You don't have arrest me. You just have to let me escape."
"With the filing cabinet."
Skulduggery hesitated. "With the filing cabinet."
"I just... With the whole filing cabinet?"
"I need a lot of information."
Stephanie grinned. "Apparently. I can't arrest you. They would take your picture—make you remove the hat and sunglasses, at least."
She never asked about the sunglasses and scarf and hat. She didn't care.
Skulduggery's head tilted forward slightly.
"What?" Stephanie prompted.
"We could always... break in."
...
Catastrophically romantic.