A/N: I'd just like to say, I think this was my first ever attempt at a fanfic and I haven't read it through in ages, so I might after I post, and I think it sucks, but, I've got reviews for this!!! What's wrong with you people??? Not that I'm complaining or anything. So, I shall finish posting the lot of it for you. Just to prove I'm a nice person.

Calling all British peoplings!!! Ed Wood is on tonight, I haven't got the channel for it but Claire's bro's taping it to add to our Johnny Depp marathon.

Chapter Three: Palms

You descend the bank to where Roux's boats are. He's sitting, back against the same tree.

"Roux," you call, walking down the bank. "You're in my seat." He turns, smiles, and stops playing his guitar.

"Oh am I?" he asks, grinning. "And what're you goin' to do about it?"

"Well, I could drag you away by your hair, I could crack you over the head with my guitar," you threaten. "But seeing as I'm not a violent person, I won't." You sit beside him, his hands are cradled in his lap.

"You're very kind," says Roux, shifting his hands.

"Where is everyone?" you ask, noticing how quiet it is.

"Dunno, probably lookin' for jobs in the village. You haven't told your folks we're here," he states.

"No. Bion wanted me to, but I think we've both got enough enemies as it is," you strum your guitar quietly. Then you stop, staring at Roux's palms. You take your guitar off and reach out for his right hand. He takes his guitar off and manoeuvres himself so he's sitting opposite you. You cradle his hand in yours, looking intensly at the lines, running your right index finger over his palm.

"You have a water hand," you say.

"And that would mean what to me?" he asks, in return. You look skeptically up at him.

"You're quiet, dreamy, insecure," you state.

"Oh, fair enough," he replies.

"You're romantic," you add.

"How'd you know?"

"Because your hands tell me. And hands never lie."

"I know I'm romantic, wouldn't it be more useful to hear somethin' I didn't know?"

"Your hands tell you about yourself. I'm assuming, you know everything about yourself," you query.

"Yes I do, so whats the point in this?" You roll your eyes in exasperation at him.

"Alright then, I won't read your palm. I won't tell you who you're going to fall in love with and I won't tell you you're going to die next Saturday," you say defiantly. He looks at you suspiciously.

"And you can tell this just by lookin' at my hand?"

"No," you disagree sheepishly. "If you don't believe in it, just think of it as a bit of fun." Roux's silent, and you continue to study his palm.

"I am romantic, y'know."

"Personally? No, I don't know. You're over-confident too," you reply.

"What tells you that?" Roux asks, becoming mildly interested.

"Your head line slopes downwards, see?" you trace his head line with your little finger. "Meaning you're over-confident, and independent."

"I am. I'm romantic as well."

"Is there a point with the romantic thing?" you ask.

"No. I'm just sayin'," Roux pouts.

"Your fate line echos your head line, confidence, independence and success. Ah," you pause.

"What is it?" asks Roux in a teasingly panic striken voice.

"Your heart line says you have a masculine nature," you begin, but he cuts you off.

"Well that's good." You laugh and look into his dark mysterious eyes, which captivate you for a moment. When you at last have the strength to look away, you realize you're sitting with his hand in your lap, and move it to your knee.

"And you maintain a good balance between your emotional and physical sides," you continue. "Which makes you warm and generous." You pause for a moment. "And," you stutter slightly. "And you're easily aroused by your own desires." You chance another look into those eyes which are already fixed on you, he leans forward and kisses you gently on your lips. You lift a hand to his cheek, but as soon as you touch it he pulls away.

"What?" you ask.

"I, my. I think, my, my heart lies somewhere else."

"You think?" you ask again. He looks up at you, and you know not to question him further. You pick up your guitar and strum a few bars of a new song you're working on.

"So, where did you learn palmistry?" he asks, strumming on his own guitar.

"My mother taught me when I was younger, before she left. It's not really a useful talent, but more gypsy tradititon, and I can get a few francs for reading in towns. There's a lot more to it than what I showed you, the hand is more complicated, and there are more deeply etched markings, but most people don't want to sit for longer, and the hand type and lines read the most accurately," you explain. Roux looks like he's deep in thought, and not about palmistry.

"She's called Vianne," he starts. "She travels from town to town too, but making a home each time. She's not prejudice like other townspeople, and she has a daughter, Anouk, they own a chocolaterie."

"Then why didn't you stay?" you ask.

"Because I couldn't be tied down and my people were movin' on."

"So why are you going back?"

"I don't know."

Over the next few days, you got to know Roux better. Bion told your father about him himself, but your father didn't seem bothered by other gypsies, he showed neither happiness nor violence. Until one day.