Mercutio is bothering weaponbearing
❝ TYBALT !! Why EVER do you look like a
cat that’s had his tail stepped on without
ME being the cause? Has someone replaced
me ?? Should I be J E A L O U S ? ? ❞
He was always far too happy to see the man he hated so
d e a r l y . There was little logic to it - so very like the rest
of Mercutio - but in a word, Tybalt was INTERESTING. He
wasn’t safe like Romeo and Benvolio. Being around him
was like taking a straight shot of A D R E N A L I N E . It
was like a test, a game if you will – perhaps an experiment:
how far could Mercutio BEND Tybalt until he SNAPPED ?
It was always great fun when Tybalt snapped – Mercutio
enjoyed the effect just as much as the cause. Sometimes
they would end in a brawl && later Mercutio would be
scolded for being involved, but he couldn’t HELP himself.
If Tybalt w a s a cat, his ears would always be flat
against his head, his tail wagging in utter annoyance
CONSTANTLY. This only worsened when he heard
the voice of that m a n. Mercutio wasn’t TOO bad
when he spoke ; it was the fact that his APPEARANCE
and EXPRESSION worked together to create the most
terribly irritating man in Verona.
When Mercutio’s words rang through the air, a small
sigh fell involuntarily through his lips, and he made
it clear through his body language that he was in NO
MOOD to be pestered.
“Mercutio,” He said in a WARNING TONE, gloved
hands sliding into his pockets as he gave the other a
wary glance. “It would do you some good to not
PESTER me so much. How I would hate to see you
at the p o i n t of my rapier for pushing me over the
edge.” He was obviously tired ; his threats weren’t
very threatening.
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