I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm proud of it. Sooo. Haters gon' hate.
"Pray thee, dear Prince of Cats, have you arrived to risk one of thy nine lives?" A faint voice appeared out of the shadows of the dark night as the silhouette stepped forward to reveal a troublesome grin.
Tybalt's head whipped around almost instantly, turning to look at the bold stranger who had dared to taunt him. "Mercutio. By thy dank cavernous tooth-hole, one would presume thou art the Prince of Cats, Cheshire." He met the other man's smirk with one of his own. "Your nurse be waiting for you, far from these grounds in shadow."
He started to make his way in the opposite direction, hearing no indication of Mercutio following, but after a few moments of trudging in silence, he began to hear the rustle of leaves crunch on the trail behind him. Irritated and in no mood to be the punchline of a jest, Tybalt stopped and turned to face him. "Have you no entertainment, Mercutio? Go consort'st with Romeo, roguish churl." A husky laugh escaped his lips as he shook at his head.
Mercutio's hot temper didn't go off as easily as it was known for. He remained calm, pleased even, and leaned forward to whisper in Tybalt's ear. "Prithee, why would one desire Montague when fair Capulet is near?"
"You dare speak of my dear cousin?"
"Nay. My mind muses on the Prince of Cats." His eyes danced with amusement at the look on Tybalt's face, his face contorted in seething rage.
"Fie! I'll have thee know, I am verily nay a queer." There was a different expression on the Capulet's face then, one made of fluster and offence. A tinge of pink graced his cheeks, as Mercutio could see under the moon's light, taking it to advantage.
"If thou art not ambivalent, let us seal true value with a kiss," he challenged with a hoarse chuckle. With that, he pressed his lips against him, a small second before Tybalt stumbled backward in surprise, looking at him with incensed rage.
"You dirty scoundrel! You childish miscreant! I draw my sword at you." With a flash of silver, the Capulet's sword was at the ready, but Mercutio merely stood there with his arms folded.
"I draw my sword at thee also." There was no weapon in his hand.
Tybalt was stagnant for a moment before he realized of Mercutio's usual sexual crudeness and threw a glare his way. He spit on the ground in his direction before leaving with a stomp, hearing only the sounds of the other man's boisterous laugh trailing behind him.