open: the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow boy's butt shaft

[bymyheelies]

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.

Comments

[futaille]

Grantaire wasn't necessarily looking for Mercutio in particular, but he was certainly drawn to the thunking noises. He stops in the doorway of the bar, looking at the tableau before him. The vibe makes perfect sense to him, to be honest.

He enters, not to bother Mercutio specifically, but instead to make a beeline for the bar, making sure to keep a wide berth from the path of dagger throwing, and grab himself a drink.

[bymyheelies]

“I shall not hit thee,” he says, sparing Grantaire half a glance. “I am not so far gone.”

[futaille]

"I wasn't particularly worried you were," he says, opening the bottle he grabbed, labeled only with faded sharpie. "But best not to distract you regardless."

[bymyheelies]

“Mmn,” Mercutio agrees with a nod, and settles back into his knife throwing routine.

[futaille]

Grantaire leans against the bar and drinks as he watches Mercutio throw his knives.

[tallyyoungblood]

Tally's been feeling a little better since she made up with Gideon again, but she's still kind of in a mood. Maybe it's a consequence of getting permanently bubblier; it's a lot harder to forget about bogus things when your brain is working better. She's thinking about going for a walk when she hears the noise, and pokes her head in, not able to see Mercutio's face from the angle she's at.

"Hey, Mercutio-la! What are you doing?"

[bymyheelies]

“Not what I would like to be, my lady,” he replies, aiming another knife at the wall. “And so I have settled for drink and this.”

[tallyyoungblood]

Tally catches his mood a little, but she takes a few steps into the room anyway.

"What else would you want to be doing?" she asks curiously. "This seems pretty bubbly as it is."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. “I do not know, precisely.” There’s another thwack of the dagger thudding into the wall. “I would yell at my fool of a friend, for the most part; but he is not here.”

[greentara]

Constance will never not investigate a strange noise, though she is somewhat cautious as she steps into the bar. This wariness wanes when she sees Mercutio and the open bottles of alcohol. She observes him throwing the daggers for a minute or two before she speaks.

"Pull your elbow in," is what she says.

[bymyheelies]

He turns and raises an eyebrow, giving Constance the slightest of bows in greeting and thanks, before he does just that as he throws his next dagger.

"I thank thee, lady."

[greentara]

She steps further into the room, taking a closer look at the daggers already pinned into the wall. "And what has you feeling so intemperate today? Or is this the typical sort of behavior I should expect from you?"

[bymyheelies]

He laughs, but there is very little humor in it. "That depends on the day, my lady. I do keep things lively; but today it is news from Verona."

[temnota]

The sound caught Aleksander's attention and he stopped to investigate. He peered inside and upon taking in the scene with the flying daggers and bottles of alcohol, he frowned. Something was clearly bothering Mercutio. He hesitated for a brief moment then entered, taking care to seem calm and unbothered.

He watched Mercutio for a bit, noting his technique and aim. "Nicely done," he said after one particularly skilled throw.

[bymyheelies]

"Thank you," he says, and it is pointedly not with the sort of warmth and charm that he normally directs at Aleks. "I am skilled with knives."

[temnota]

There was something definitely the matter but Aleksander was fairly sure that Mercutio not only did not want to talk about it but would resist any attempts to draw him out. So he looked through the cupboard until he found a bottle of kvass and poured himself a glass.

"I see that," he said easily. "I am impressed. Where did you learn that?"

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs, sharp and slightly irritated. "At home, my lord."

[sagramore]

Sagramore did promise Dionysus that he would help try to parent Mercutio. So when he sees him engaged in what's obviously unhappy drinking, and presumably unhappy knife tossing, it seems only right that he poke his head in.

"Good aim," he says lightly, heading over to the wall to collect the daggers that have already been tossed.

[bymyheelies]

“A poor duelist I would be, if I could not aim,” he replies, settling back to take another drink of the nearest bottle. He doesn’t know what it is; but he will undoubtedly have a terrible hangover later.

[sagramore]

"That's right, I do remember the duels. How are you?"

[bymyheelies]

There's a shrug. "I do well enough."

[wickedwit]

"Looking for bad ideas, I see." Claudius leans in the doorway, eying Mercutio over with his collection of opened bottles and daggers. They probably oughtn't be combined, but Claudius is hardly a man to stop him. "Shall I ask what inspired this?"

[bymyheelies]

"You could, ay," he replies, turning to eye Claudius speculatively. "Would I tell thee? That remains to be seen."

[wickedwit]

"You know just how to pique my interest. I love little better than a mystery." With an ironic smirk to bely the tone of a passerby concerned¹, he says, "Mercutio. What seems to be the matter? Has that wall mortally offended thee?"

¹ This is, in fact, a double irony. He is concerned, and passing by.

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs, idly picking up a dagger to twirl in his hands. “I would much rather be doing some other form of fighting, but there is no one to duel.” At least not in the way he’d like to duel, sharp teasing words and swords alike.