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

[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."

[greentara]

"Verona-- in Italy," Constance repeats, lightly. "What news?"

[bymyheelies]

"News of the fate of my friend. It was not good news."

[greentara]

"I am sorry to hear that. And hence," she nods at the daggers in the wall, "you've decided on the ill fate of the wall as well."

[bymyheelies]

"Ay, well--" He shrugs. "I would fight, at home, in a mood like this; but there is no one so pleasing to fight with here."

[greentara]

If he was older and more sober, Constance would consider offering to fight him to maintain her paranza corta skills -- but he is neither. She eyes him. "What do you say to a knife throwing competition?"

[bymyheelies]

He raises an eyebrow. "You know how to throw knives?" He'd expected that from Tally, of course, but this young lady does not look the type.

[greentara]

Constance remains silent and also raises an eyebrow in return. Would she have suggested one if she did not know how to throw knives?

[bymyheelies]

"Very well, though I fear I may be poor competition." He's being a little modest, in truth. Most of his knives in the wall have done a very good job of staying in.

[greentara]

"Skill does not matter if it redirects your frustration towards something more productive," Constance tells him. Knife throwing is productive, of course. She pulls a couple of the knives out of the wall and hands him two, keeping two for herself. She points at one of the notches, about eye level. "Let's both try and hit this one."

[bymyheelies]

Of course. That’s why he chose it as his current occupation other than drinking. “Ay, alright.” He gives Constance a nod, and a little wave of his hand. “Ladies first.”

[greentara]

For all her stiffness both in carriage and in speech, the way that Constance lines herself up and throws a knife is surprisingly languid. Her style of knife fighting is that of Italian street fighting, after all, studied with individual masters rather than a strict lineage of moves and techniques. She throws a knife and it hits the notch.

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio's movements are languid, too -- they look careless at first, but he is well-accustomed to street fighting, even if it doesn't generally end in knife throwing. He gives her a nod of approval and moves to throw his own, coming very close to hitting where Constance's did.

[greentara]

"Very nice," she tells him, sounding complimentary, almost.

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs a bit. "I have seen my share of fights."

[greentara]

"And today, you're not quite searching for a fight -- but you are searching for something," she observes. "An outlet."

[bymyheelies]

"Ay, one could say that."

[greentara]

She gestures at the knives in the wood, then. "Again?"

[bymyheelies]

He nods and throws his knives again, a little less precisely this time.

[greentara]

Constance throws her knife with the same amount of sharpness, hitting the same spot once again.