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.

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[sagramore]

So Sagramore slides onto the barstool beside him and takes one of the open bottles. It's strawberry and lemongrass Grey Goose, and it's not terrible? He's honestly a little surprised by how not-terrible it is.

"What's the occasion, by the way?"

[bymyheelies]

He gives another shrug. "I had news from home."

[sagramore]

"What news?" He's prodding, absolutely, gentle but insistent.

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio raises an eyebrow. Sagramore may not be quite as much of an open book as Dionysus is, but he is clever enough to know prodding when he sees it. But he's in no mood to draw this out. "Romeo is dead," he says flatly, turning to stare at the wall full of knives in front of them.

[sagramore]

"Your--" He searches his memory and gets something from Dionysus' party. "Your friend from back home?"

[bymyheelies]

“Ay, one of them. The foolish one.”

[sagramore]

"I'm sorry. That's a hard thing."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. "He is a fool. At the least, he killed Tybalt before he killed himself."

[sagramore]

"Christ, no wonder you're drinking." He has another drink himself, and then hauls himself to his feet. "Come on."

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio blinks a bit, and takes a moment to have one more drink himself. "The worst of it is that it was over a girl he met three days ago." Eventually he, too, hauls himself to his feet, though quite a bit tipsier than Sagramore is.

[sagramore]

"That's even stupider, yes. You'd never do anything like that, of course," taking Mercutio's hand in his and pulling him towards the door, albeit not too fast -- he does know how easy it is to pull over a man who's been drinking.

[bymyheelies]

“Of course not.” He is entirely serious, naturally, carefully picking his way along after Sagramore. “I’ve no need of love,” he adds, mulishly. “All it does is cause foolishness such as this to happen.”

[sagramore]

"Oh, absolutely," Sagramore agrees patiently. "Utter nonsense."

[bymyheelies]

"Ay, so it is. Turns sane men to fools and women to cooing doves; give me a sword and a battle over that." It's a bit of a wonder how he's still standing, with the way he's slurring his words, but he will prevail. At least long enough to follow Sagramore for a bit longer.

[sagramore]

"Oh, yes. Why go in for romance when you could get killed instead?"

[bymyheelies]

"I was only killed because Romeo got in between us," he points out sulkily. He will certainly not be elaborating on the fact that he was basically goading Tybalt into fighting him; nor will he be elaborating on Tybalt himself.<sup>1

1Not that getting Tybalt to say yes to a fight is a difficult thing.</sup>

[sagramore]

"Absolutely. If he hadn't, thou wouldst have acquitted thyself handily. I know how these things go. I've baited men like that too," pointedly.

[bymyheelies]

"Thou hast?" That takes him aback; for half a moment he looks quite a bit younger than he actually is, a heartbroken boy uncertain of where to go next. But it passes quickly, and he steadies himself on Sagramore's shoulder. "Thou wert luckier than I, at least."

[sagramore]

He's never thought of himself as lucky for Agravain's thrashings, but when he looks at this child who died too soon he feels it with a pang. "I was," softly. "And thou deservedst better."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. “I would have liked to have lived. I did not expect better.” It is almost painfully sincere; likely the most serious Sagramore has yet seen him.

[sagramore]

"I would thou hast. Thou shouldst have had a long life to be a fool." He brushes Mercutio's cheek with his fingertips.

[bymyheelies]

“Ay, well.” He shrugs a little. “Perhaps it was no great loss.”

[sagramore]

"It was. Sweet heart, it's always a loss. Thy life mattered."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs again, but says nothing, leaning against Sagramore a little.

[sagramore]

Sagramore squeezes him gently again. "Why don't I make thee something to eat, and thou canst tell me more of thy life. Tell me about Verona."