Now art thou what thou art

It is getting closer to the middle of spring. Perhaps it is somewhat early to go swimming, but Mercutio is in the mood for exercise -- and not his usual sword training. Some might spot him at the lake, diving in and out of the water quite happily. His swimming routine is not what one would call 'orderly', there are no laps involved; a few lengths of the lake, but mostly he is just swimming purely for the fun of it. He darts in and out of the water like an otter, emerging at points to grab some snacks from his bag under a convenient tree. One might catch him at this point, or perhaps, when he is returning to the mansion, only slightly dripping water every where he goes.

One day in early winter, Mercutio has taken it upon himself to find a distraction. Yes, swordplay is all well and good, and shooting arrows with Apollo is fine enough; but it is growing too cold for that, and the sun god is growing irritable as it gets colder. So he shows up at Bacchus' door, carting an extremely beaded pink dress and hammers on it until he gets an answer. When the door opens, he offers the dress, along with: "I need thee to show me how to wear this properly."

For those that care to spend time with Mercutio; they may note that today he is conspicuously hard to find. He is still reeling from the recent news of Romeo's fate at the end of their story, and not entirely sure how to proceed with it. Ideally, at home, he would find some way to take his mind off of pressing matters: spend time with his friends (friend, now, singular) or find someone entertaining to harass about the town and make merry. If he was in a particularly snappish mood he would invariably end up picking a fight with Capulets, one in particular.

That is not the case today. Someone attuned to the general sounds of the mansion might hear a steady sort of thunking noise coming from an out-of-the-way bar. It is there that Mercutio can be found, various bottles of alcohol open at his side. He has clearly been there some time by the looks of it, and is currently engrossed in throwing a small selection of daggers at the wall. Despite his intoxication, he is doing a reasonably good job at it; but judging from the stormy look on his face, he does not entirely wish to be bothered.