A few notes. And I can't remember them. Crap. Oh, yes. Wait...no. Oh right. If the chapter setup confuses you, I apologize. Unless I'm incompetent, FFN doesn't have a setup for prologues, which meant that I had to make the prologue a seperate chapter. Actually, I could've just attached it to Chapter One...

My point is I'm incompetent.

Chapter Three: Third Time's a Charmer

Gophan Tartou stood outside of Clopin's caravan, frowning intensely. He heard noises coming from inside, and they weren't sounds he normally wanted to hear. They were slight; lots of sighing and small giggles. Gophan counted four voices, one of them being Clopin.

Clopin's voice was hushed. "Breathe, darling," he whispered. This resulted in another set of giggles, then an outpour of laughter. A second later, Clopin chuckled suavely.

Gophan knew that laugh; he walked in on his friend one too many times as the aforementioned was engaged in some kind of pleasurable activity with a woman, be it drinking or sex…or both. Trouillefou usually spent the night with a woman if he was upset. It was extremely rare if he spent the night with more than one woman.

This was extremely rare.

The large man grunted and walked up to the door, knocking three times exactly. Clopin had no choice but to know it was Gophan, because they agreed that would be the way they would know it was one another. They knew, but now Clopin chose to ignore it. The giggling ceased, and there was a low sigh. The small window in the door opened.

"Tartou," Clopin hissed. "Why are you here?"

"Open the door, Trouillefou."

Clopin growled, then threw his door open, revealing himself to be completely devoid of any clothing save for his hat, which he was holding right over the part of his anatomy that needed covering. "The door's open. What is so important—?"

Gophan's eyes widened when he looked inside the caravan. "Three girls, Clopin? How old are they?"

There was a brief silence, and Clopin turned his head to the girls, who were chatting and giggling amongst themselves. "Two of them are thirty-six." He frowned slightly. "The other's nineteen."

"Nineteen, Clopin?!" Gophan hissed. "She's not old enough to make her own decisions!"

"That may be, but I..." He glanced between the girls and Gophan over three times—back and forth, back and forth. "I'm going to need you to leave."

"Don't you even thi—"

"Marie, Sophie...thank you." He watched the two older women get dressed, luckily not in the least offended. "Aranya...stay."

The younger woman looked up at Clopin and smiled. "How come?" she asked in a fluty yet womanly voice that sent chills even up Gophan's spine. "Why just me?"

Clopin looked at his best friend in the world as the older women went by and kissed each man on the cheek as they left. "Because. I want to talk to you." He smirked, sending another set of chills up Gophan's spine. "One reason because I want to provoke Gophan to do something irrational. Another reason because I..." He turned his head to Aranya. "I'm feeling like I need to talk."

Aranya smiled. "Mm, and if you didn't have that hat in way it would be apparent?"

Gophan shut his eyes tightly. "Trouillefou, I—" He heard a door shut, and he sighed. "Be careful."

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Clopin sat in front of Aranya. "I should probably tell you I have a son."

Aranya smiled again and crawled towards the gypsy king. She ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on a sensitive part of his ear. "How old is he?"

"A year older than you," Clopin breathed, laying on his back as Aranya gently pushed her hand on his chest. "But I never see him, and he has no idea he's my son, so theoretically he's not my son at all."

"Right," the young gypsy woman murmured. "And theoretically I'm not here."

Clopin grinned and propped himself up on his elbows. "Well, that's disappointing. Now I have to go back to my puppet caravan and cry."

Aranya kissed him on the neck slowly. "No, no. There will be no crying." She grinned when he chuckled. "I'm doing this for no coins, Monsieur Trouillefou."

"Then in that case, you are to call me Clopin."

The two of them chose to remain silent for the following two hours.

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"So I'm assuming you had fun with...what was her name?"

Clopin rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he examined the puppet caravan. He had a scowl of concentration adorning his features, and his arms were crossed. "Aranya," he murmured.

"Yes." Gophan wanted to kick his best friend at the moment; he'd barely said a word that entire morning. Lord only knew what he was doing at that very minute. To Gophan, he was staring at the caravan as if it were trying to convey a message to the gypsy leader. For all he knew, it could've been. "I have something I wish to discuss with you," he added.

"If it has to do with Aranya," Clopin finally pried his eyes away from the carriage and set his gaze on the bigger man, "then I think it's a matter of unimportance, whereas the matter of Quasimodo is a whole other story in itself, is it not?"

Gophan sniffed heartily. "Yes. Quasimodo is..." He shook his head abruptly. "Stop it with the formality. You never told me you had a son."

Clopin's expression softened. "I never told anyone. I didn't even tell him. It would've remained a secret if that Iris Whatsername didn't come and—"

"Somehow I doubt that."

Clopin grinned. A few seconds later, he stopped. "I've only seen Quasimodo a few times in his entire lifetime. I can't watch him die."

This was the first time he'd ever shown his vulnerability to Gophan. He made sure he was always on top of things and had a plan for everything. He knew he was spooking him out, but it was the truth. He didn't know if Iris was going to come back with news or details on Quasimodo's potential assassination; he didn't even know if she was telling the truth. All he knew was that he had to figure out how to protect the hunchback if it was true.

"I'll help you," Gophan said quietly. "Even though I still wish to wring your neck..."

Clopin laughed. "Merci, Tartou." He kicked his puppet caravan, and it promptly collapsed in a heap of wood and cloth.

They stared at it, and Clopin cleared his throat. "I knew something was a bit...off."

Remember, this story was inspired completely by a dream. Sometimes the plot doesn't even make sense to me. But I'm pulling it together, don't worry.

Thanks to all those reading and reviewing!