Liam almost never left the house, and he never left voluntarily. He would never think of it as home, but it was where he was living till he was able to go back to his beloved Ireland and sleep in his own bed. But that’s beside the point. Liam was about to do something rather uncharacteristic, he was going to leave the safety of his sketch books and canvases and travel through London. A few days ago, in one of the dinners his step-mother had hosted, a few girls had been giggling about a gypsy who told fortunes who had come to London. Normally, Liam would have ignored the gossip, but the idea of a gypsy, a person who traveled from place to place, intrigued him. What stories would such a person have to tell? He listened closer, and was able to find out that the gypsy was a woman named Zigana. He scrawled the name down on a piece of paper as soon as he was able to leave the dinner. And he decided that the next day he would go and find her, and see if she was willing to tell her stories.

So the next day Liam dressed in his most modest clothing. He was afraid that if he looked like someone in a high class he would be mugged or kidnapped... yea, he didn’t get out much. But also, he disliked the extravagant clothing, it drew attention to him. So he was dressed in a pair of grey trousers, a dark red vest and a slightly darker grey coat (and shit, socks, cravat, all that stuff). He didn’t bother to put on a hat, easier and more comfortable to go without. So, after leaving a quick note for his step-mother explaining that he wished to go for a quick walk to better acquaint himself with London (he knew that would make her happy), he left heading towards Trafalgar Square. This is where he knew she had last been, and Liam dearly hoped she was still there.

He searched about for an hour, trying to find the person he would assume to be much more colourful than the English. He avoided people who knew him and the other, poorer folk trying to sell him there wears. Gloves for his sweetheart, lovely writing books, well, Liam did end up buying a rather nice writing book. He had no book to write in currently. He wasn’t sure what he would write, but couldn’t hurt if the inspiration struck to own one. So despite his purchase, Liam was unable to find the gypsy woman. He was feeling quite disheartened and was about to give up and go home, when he spotted a flash of colour. Carefully weaving through the crowds, he spotted what he would assumed was Zigana. She was exactly what he thought he was; colourful, very un-English and rather pretty. He smiled and started towards her, waiting for the person who’s palm she was reading to be done.

Liam watched her work with interest. He had never seen someone read a palm before, and it was rather curious. How did one memorise all the different kinds of lines that could appear on a hand. He looked at his own hand, mildly curious about what it could tell. But he wanted to hear about her, about where she traveled and what she did. He couldn’t possibly ask her, or even pay her to learn more about himself. So he waited patiently, hoping he didn’t look to dodgy standing here watching her. The moment the thought that he might entered his head, his eyes widened and he looked away.

Finally, the young woman whose palm she was reading left and Liam gathered up the courage to go over and talk to her. He fidgeted with some string in his pockets.
“Oh, um... H-hello. I’m Liam... –Callaghan. I was wondering if you, well because you’re a gypsy and all... not that that’s a bad thing, but you must have traveled around a bit. So, I was, um, wondering if you had any s-stories or something like that you could tell me. Because I-I’m really interested in that kinda thing and all...” He rambled rather quietly with his little Irish lilt. He trailed off, realizing he had been rambling and now she probably thought he was annoying and not worth her time. Nothing like the little introduction he had thought of the night before. He was about to give up and run away.

Liam felt rather ashamed at his total train wreck of an introduction. He bit at his lip and looked away from her. God, confident people. They were so interesting and different, but frightened the living day lights out of him. But, Liam was quite sure that he would rather be talking to a confident gypsy than an air headed English girl. But, right now, he would have loved to be back in his room drawing the flower that sat in a vase in his room, but he had committed to talking to this woman, and it would be rude to back out now, no matter how much he wanted to.

He looked away though, when she laughed lightly. He expected that she would laugh at him; he wasn’t really doing a good job of holding up his pride. But, if he wanted to hear stories of faraway places, he had to try, at least this once, to be brave. She didn’t seem like a horrid or cruel person, he could get through this, well- at least he thought he could. Liam was never one for being bold or stepping out of his comfort zone, but perhaps his step-mother was right, maybe it was bad for him to be so anti-social.

“Um... please. J-just call me Liam.” It was always uncomfortable when people called him ‘Mr. Callaghan’ or ‘Lord Callaghan.’ It really didn’t sound right if you knew him. So he liked to be called Liam where etiquette allowed it, and since Liam had thrown his edict to the wind with his introduction, he figured it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Be sides, she was a gypsy, not some pompous English woman. That’s the only reason Liam was able to build up the courage, she wasn’t English. She was... he wasn’t quite sure where gypsies were from.

“W-well... do you mind if I sit?” He asked, pointing to the space in front of her, just off the blanket. Liam was avoiding her question, because he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. He had seemed to all ready pretty much told her what he wanted. How do you explain that you wanted to just hear about a persons travels from a person you have never met before. He felt even more embarrassed and opened his mouth to say never mind, but stopped. Really, he had dug this whole for himself and- it was nice not hearing an English accent on her voice; a pleasant change.

He sifted in place a little bit, and found a bit of an answer to her question,
“Well- um, you see... You seem to have traveled the world, p-please tell me if I’m being, um, presumptuous, and I’m sure you would have heard stories from the places you’ve gone... l-like legends and myths and things... folk-lore and...” He trailed off, not sure what else to say. If she didn’t understand that he would run away. Far away and do his very best to avoid the gypsy.

Then he realized, while he knew her name, she had actually told him, so with a quick stutter her asked,
"Oh! W-what’s your name by the way?” Liam figured he had killed pretty much all etiquette, but some could be saved. But did she even care? Liam kind of did, it had been bred into him from birth, but she didn’t seem the type who would be insulted if you used the wrong fork or used the wrong title. She seemed, much more relaxed on her little carpet in her bright clothing than Liam had ever felt when he wasn’t drawing.

And her face; it was very unique, in a good way of course. Striking angles that all fit together in a beautiful face. It wasn’t the porcelain white of all the girls his step-mother introduced him to. Tanned, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. In a world where everyone strived to look the same, to Liam she was the one most worth drawing. In his sketch book at home he had pages and pages of English girls. But he would add a gypsy to them tonight, and even if he fails miserably today, it would be his favourite.