A/N: Another short chapter but they do get longer and more interesting, I promise!

The bus system wasn't particularly difficult to understand but Ros ensured she was at the stop early to increase her chances of getting a seat instead of being subjected to a sweaty armpit in the face from a traveller who obviously didn't know of a substance called deodorant. Public transport was something she loathed and so when she successfully managed to grab a seat Ros was very relieved, slipping on her sunglasses and gluing her gaze to the houses that blurred beside her as the bus ambled towards the city.

The man at the reception of her hotel (only 3 star – Six' budgets had been a little stretched lately) told her that the Old Town of Dubrovnik was not only a mere twenty minutes or so away but provided the best spot for eating and socialising. The latter was a topic that didn't interest her in the slightest but the thought of a decent meal after the dry egg sandwich she was given on the plane was difficult to refuse.

The large woman who had crammed herself next to Ros left at the next stop, leaving a vacant seat and several pushy travellers intent on getting it. However, a man that Ros had hardly noticed moved swiftly and parked himself next to her without so much a glance in his fellow candidates' direction. Ros looked at him from behind her sunglasses without titling her head as she sized him up.

Probably British. His watch was from a brand in London and his lowered head to prevent eye contact was one that Ros had encountered several times on the Tube. He had the complexion of an undercooked pancake – a little brown in places but mainly pale – and Ros knew that only Englishmen possessed such sporadic tanning abilities. His hair was dark brown and messy, eyes hidden behind sunglasses perched on the bridge of his slightly sunburnt nose.

"Hey," he said, and Ros instinctively ducked her head. It had not been her intention to interact with this stranger and now she couldn't back out of making small talk without being openly hostile or pretending that she didn't speak English (two methods which she had attempted in the past when faced with talkative strangers but unfortunately with limited success).

"Hello," she said curtly, moving her eyes to the window. In the glassy reflection she watched him peel his sunglasses from his face.

"How long have you been in Dubrovnik?" he asked.

Ugh, no. "A few days. Little sight-seeing tour," she said smoothly.

"Speak any Croatian?" he asked.

Ros was tempted to try out her pronunciation on a couple of the insults she had learnt from the language book she had bought from the airport but decided against it, in case the man was in fact fluent.

"Nope," she said shortly. He grinned and spouted a phrase with an appalling accent which made Ros raise her eyebrows.

"Am I supposed to be impressed that you memorised 'Welcome to Croatia' from a travel book?" she drawled, fanning her face with the map of the town that she had picked up from the hotel reception in an attempt to dispel some of the heat in the pressure cooker of a bus which was now so crammed with people that an elbow to the face or chest was completely unavoidable.

He laughed then, heartily, and shrugged. "Nice to have a fellow Brit around, I suppose."

Ros' skin bristled. "What gave me away– my impeccable manners?" She timely offered a glare to someone behind her who had probably nudged her shoulder by accident but would still receive a practically lethal dose of Myers disapproval.

"The fact that you were adamant to avoid conversation," he said matter-of-factly, tapping his flip-flopped feet on the floor in an irritating rhythm.

"Why didn't you take the hint and sit silently then?" Ros asked sweetly as the bus slowed to a halt outside the entrance to the Old Town.

"It's been a while since I've talked to someone like me. I'm Tom, by the way."

Before Ros had the chance to unload her sardonic twist on the British favourite 'Pleasure to meet you', Tom had stepped quickly off the bus and blended instantly with the rest of the people piling out of the vehicle and heading into the town. Ros tried to locate his tall, broad-shouldered stance among the crowds but without success, frowning at how effortlessly he had managed to disappear.

Someone like me.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Maybe he was on drugs. Or in dire need of psychological help.

Either way, Ros had a mission to complete and she wouldn't let a rambling stranger become a source of distraction.