withoutverona | A Banquet Hall, Verona, Friday Evening

Romeo had all but quit talking as he drew closer and closer to the banquet hall, and his jaw was set at an odd angle, half suffering, half determined. "Thou needst not go with me," he told Yurika as he steered a rented car into the parking lot.

He might have said that about 15 times.

	"Are you kidding? Free food, and people to mock. You expect me to miss the best part of the trip?" Dōjima asked, snapping shut her compact to smirk at him. "Besides, I intend to take great pleasure in being the prettiest girl there, and making all the boys jealous of you." "I'm easily entertained."
	Jokes flew completely over his head at this point, so he looked at her dully for a moment before recognizing her remark's spirit. He had to admit he was glad she was willing to do this, and he managed a tiny smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Then you'll be with me, for the free food, and jealousy. All right." He put a hand on her arm. "We'll check our guns before we go in, but if anything happens regardless, leave and don't wait for me."
	"Are they even going to expect me to be carrying a weapon?" she asked, curious. "If they aren't, I'd feel better being armed." If he honestly thought she'd leave without him...well, it wasn't going to come to that.
	That was a decent point, and Romeo had to think about it. "Normally they might not," he conceded. "But as you are with me, they may check. I pray you, give up the weapon if asked." "But if you conceal it well and look innocent ..." he trusted her to fill in the rest of the thought.
	Dōjima fluttered her eyelashes at him sweetly. "Hai, I'll follow your lead. If they ask, they may have it." "Besides, I am very pretty. If all the bouncers are boys, then it won't be a problem."
	Romeo actually giggled at that as he got out of the car and walked around to open Yurika's door. It might have been a thin giggle, and tinged with hysteria, but it was there all the same. "Very, very pretty," he gallantly agreed, reaching to help her out. "Only smile and the security should melt, and turn to air. It is all the weapon I will need"
	Dōjima accepted his hand, squeezing slightly as she stood up. "Breathe, koibito. It's a party, everything will be fine," she murmured, linking her arm with his. "Smile, and think happy thoughts. You were invited, and have just as much right to be here as anyone else."
	Despite his elation at recent turns of events, Benvolio was hard pressed to deny a palpable awkwardness in the proceedings. It was one thing for him to know that he was to marry Rosaline, but the events from which the Peace Talks between Montague and Capulet had sprung were still somewhat fresh and the very public nature of the wedding itself stirred unease in his breast. He was certain that the presence of his banished cousin would do little to soothe his discomfort; pleased though he was to see Romeo again after this many months, this augured a reawakening of ill tempers that poorly suited the occasion.
	On the eve of her nuptials, Rosaline's thoughts lay along much the same line as her betrothed's. She carried a small glow of envy for those brides whose greatest fears were of flowers wilting or lace snagging, of lavish cakes toppling to the ground. She would consider their union happy if no blood was spilled. Seeing his kinsman Romeo enter did little to allay her fears. The room was as like dry tinder, waiting for the least spark. The exiled Montague could set the room ablaze. Rosaline glanced at her intended, worry lining her eyes. She lowered her voice so that only he might hear. "Think'st thou the peace will hold?" she murmured.
	Benvolio for his part had borne witness to too much spilling of blood to look upon the morrow's tidings without an untainted eye. He was loath to cast such a shadow upon the occasion of his marriage, but Romeo's presence, much as he willed that his cousin partake of the joy of the celebration, awakened memories he thought best left behind. "I dare not say what I think, but rather what I hope: that the ill will of the past be left but a memory, and that the love our kin bear for us doth overshadow the strife of bygone days. Mayhap this banishment of his has visited wisdom upon yon Romeo, but little can I tell from his visage as of yet."
	"He doth know better than any what this hate hath cost both sides," Rosaline said softly, toying idly with her ring. His ring; theirs, a promise to be fulfilled the following day. "Mayhap joy and love will win the day, and old feuds lie farther behind us all." She did not wish to hope for it herself. He was rash, impulsive, quick to act and slow to weigh consequence. Worse yet, if a year had wrought change in him, if he were now the soberest monk to draw air, her kinsmen may still lust for vengeance, for the blood of Tybalt and Juliet both. Brash Tybalt, who spat in death's eye until it claimed him at last, and sweet Juliet, who would beg them with her last breath to stay their hands. This ancient grudge was exhausting. How were her kin not hobbled by it?
	Romeo wasn't sure where his eyes ought to go first; to fair Rosaline, no longer the one beauty of his heart but to whom he still felt a draw? To Benvolio, his dearest cousin, now, in a way, a rival? Or to his father, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at this entire turn of events? He dared not clap eyes on Juliet's parents, nor on the dark-suited Capulets lingering along the walls, dangerous even without their guns. In the end, the old warmth won out, and he led Yurika toward the happy couple. "Cos!" he greeted. "And Rosaline. May I offer my felicitations upon this happiest of days?" Bland words, yes, but they tripped off the tongue easily enough.
	The smile that came to Benvolio's face was perhaps not as difficult as he had feared it might be, though he would not say that it came without some effort. "Good cousin," he ventured, "it does my heart good to see that you are well. Our joy on this day might be lessened without you here to share it."
	"Not lessened near so much as my own should be were I to hear you had wed without my presence," Romeo said. "Happy fate is, then, that calls me here on such an auspicious date, despite my unhappy larger purpose. I am also pleased to see you both so well." Turning slightly to Rosaline, he added. "This is Dojima Yurika, a friend of mine from school, who was kind enough to accompany me in these travels."
	"Fortunate indeed are you, to have a companion such," Rosaline smiled, dropping a curtsy to the new girl. "We are much blessed to share our joy with so many. Will you stay and sup with us? Come, I insist we lift a glass to happy futures." If futures stayed happy, that would be enough to please Rosaline well.
	Friend? Dōjima was not surprised, but she smirked at Romeo just slightly as she bowed to the other girl. "I would be honored," she replied as she straightened, smiling at both of her hosts. "I cannot think of a more pleasant way to pass the evening, than to drink to the happiness of Romeo's dear friend and favorite cousin."
	Friend indeed. Benvolio knew his cousin better than that, but wisely perhaps he kept his counsel, save for a fleeting glance at Rosaline. "A name as poetic to my ear as it is unfamiliar," he said graciously, "with a countenance of equal beauty. Gentlewoman, I bid thee well met, and most honored are we to have thee join in our revelry."
	Oooooh...nice. Dōjima gave Benvolio an appraising look and smiled. "Now I know where Romeo learned his silver tongue, or is it that all Montague boys have such a knack for flattery?" A small white card appeared in her hand, and she palmed it to him. "For after your honeymoon. While I've been informed that his Nurse would have the best blackmail material, I'm sure you have something to keep our merry band of hooligans entertained."
	Ted Montague attended the dinner solely for Benvolio's sake; the presence of the Capulets sorted ill with his peace of mind, already unbalanced by Benvolio's choice of bride. The lack of his dear wife did augment the sting. And now his wayward child had come, to make uncertain tempers more foul.
	Gloria was wrapped up in thoughts of her lost daughter, of what had not been and never would be, when she caught sight of the very reason for those never-would-be's. Her jaw tightened and a fire lit her eyes. The only thing that kept her from reacting further was the fact that no celebration was the place for a grieving mother to launch herself at the reason for her child's death, no matter how satisfying it might have been. She would definitely be keeping an eye on Romeo, though.
	Fulgencio Capulet was pleased, he supposed, by this match, though he still had misgivings about yet another Capulet flower being plucked by the Montagues. He warily watched Romeo's entrance, as he did the movements of all Capulets present, from behind a glass of wine.
	A silver-mouthed sneer followed the unfriendly gaze of one of the Capulet's men from across the banquet hall. Abra, the owner of both sneer and gaze, made swift, purposeful strides across the room toward the owner of a face that was not welcome in the least. Not if he had any say in the matter. "Banished," he spat, looking down his nose at the Montague, "would appear to have altered meaning now, if it has come to be another word for eat, mingle, and celebrate, Montague."
	Romeo straightened, looking Abra dead in the eye. He meant not to brawl, but he would also not back down, not at a mere sneer from a silver mouth. "Banished," he said strongly, "means what it has, Capulet. But my cousin and the police alike have given me leave to be here, and it is Benvolio's celebration more than any other's save his bride. Let me be, sir."
	"You ask me for peace, then?" Abra's eyebrow twitched upward and his gaze hardened into a glower. "You ought to know by now what value we place on that word. I should think you appreciate it the same. It was, after all, your Sword that slew Tybalt." Another flash of silver accompanied another sneer, and his hands tightened into fists. "And so banished means what it has, save for murderers and Montagues."
	"And it was Tybalt's hand that took Mercutio, who had no larger part in this old quarrel," Romeo hissed, regretting the words almost as they left his mouth. "I value peace. Unlike some, I have learned from its harsh absence." His hands twitched at his side, and his thoughts flew to the Sword he had checked at the door.
	"So you would place responsibility for your actions on the shoulders of a dead man? The law," Abra's was voice dripping with contempt for both that word and the boy in front of him, "would have dealt with Tybalt. And perhaps more than one late Capulet would be breathing today." And if the law saw fit to forgive a murderer, perhaps Abra would have to take it upon himself to banish his kinsman's killer, personally, even if it came to using his bare hands. Which was why he didn't allow Romeo a moment to come up with a decent argument before he let his fist fly toward him.
	Because Romeo was focused on glaring back as he came up with that decent argument, the blow took him by surprise. He absorbed it with his chin, and bent over for a second, staggered. Hurt flashed through his eyes as he stood and hit out at Abra, putting all his rage into the blow.
	And it was, in fact, a decent blow. Abra had been expecting a punch in turn, but it was more fierce than he had anticipated, and he had to take a half-step back and a moment's pause to shake it off before he practically threw himself at Romeo, shoulder first. No Montague would slander his fallen kin. Not without a fight.
	No Montague would stand his ground in the face of such an assault and such hateful speech. This one was swiftly knocked to the floor, grabbing at Abra to bring him down as well. A signal must have been given elsewhere in the hall; two men in neat dark suits appeared, guns nested in visible holsters. They forcibly imposed themselves between the pair. "Stop this brawling," the smaller one said, and while his tone was flat, it was clearly an order, backed up with a grab at Romeo's collar. Romeo immediately went limp, letting himself be hauled to his feet as he scowled at the men, Abra, the world as a whole.
	Abra wasn't nearly as passive as Romeo was, pulling himself to his feet, straightening his jacket roughly, and taking a few steps backward. While he wasn't in the mood for peace, he was intelligent enough to desire a bullet even less. "Our quarrel can take pause for now," he decided, his tone still sour, "though it is far from over." Big words for a man who was now retreating back toward his table at a warning glance from the armed hired help. He did pause long enough to deliver another silver-toothed snarl. For the road. And then he stalked off.
	"Never. Over," Romeo said, slightly sickened by this even as he accompanied it with an over-the shoulder snarl of his own. Bigger words from a man who was currently being frog-marched to the exit and rather roughly shown the door, gun tossed out after him.
	Rosaline held her composure, with some difficulty. It would not do for a bride to leave her seat at her own nuptial banquet in order to box someone's ears. Joy and love were not winning much, thus far.
	Ted shook his head, and kept his voice low as he approached the wedding party's table, stopping near the bride. "I do pray you pardon my son, Rosaline. Since he has left too swift and rushed to tender his own regrets."
	"I beg thee, think on it not, kind sir," Rosaline said, offering him her hand. "'Twas my kinsman started the fray. Let us return to merry-making and not let old wounds hold the day."
	At this, Ted gave Rosaline a look of surprise, then ruefulness, and smiled in the direction of his nephew. "A level heart to match a level mind; methinks this match is of a kind. Therefore, I shall leave my fears at rest for what remains of this beginning."
	Dōjima had resisted the urge to step in and bend both Romeo and Abra's ears, and now she was regretting not interfering as she watched Romeo get forcibly ejected from the dinner. Idiots. Both of them. She murmured generic apologies to the people near her as she excused herself, quickly making her way over to where Rosaline was seated. "Gomenasi, Rosaline-san," she said quietly, shooting a wary glance at the guards. "He did not come intending mischief, I swear."
	"I believe thee. Romeo's heart never holds ill," Rosaline assured the blonde girl. "Old feuds are these, which plague generations that know not their cause. If time heals all wounds, it moveth slow enough here to vex Nature herself." She sighed once more, watching the disappearing forms from the doorway. "Thou art of course welcome to stay and dine with us, though I imagine Romeo's side be a more appealing spot."
	"Appealing only in the sense that I can sate my desire to shake him soundly," Yurika answered dryly, "and to ensure he doesn't open his mouth again tonight. His wit often moves faster than his wisdom."
	"His passion, as well, speeds beyond his reason," Rosaline nodded. "It is not uncommon, amongst his kin nor mine. Go to him, then, and if thou wouldst, tell him I bear him no ill will." Being vexed at Romeo for his impetuousness was not unlike resenting a dog for barking, and every bit as worthwhile. Rosaline would consider the event fortunate that nothing more than fists had flown, when so many carried daggers on their hips.
	"We're sure that Capulet and Montague aren't related somehow?" she joked, shaking her head. "I'll let him know, thank you." With another apologetic smile, Yurika headed out the door after Romeo.
	To be perfectly honest? Gloria was less than thrilled at the fight, though seeing Romeo injured in even the slightest way pleased some dark part of her. She looked off after Abra, though, far more concerned for the moment with his well-being. As Romeo had just been tossed out, he was no longer important enough to register in Gloria's mind.
	It was perhaps a good thing Fulgencio had partaken deeply of the wine by then; his reaction to the fight was to wave the waiter over for a refill, and to direct one for Abra as well. "The troublemaker is gone, and he is now again tomorrow's problem," he observed. "Tonight is for this feasting."
	There were any number of things Gloria wanted to say, but instead she merely gave her husband a smile and a nod of agreement. "Of course," she said. "Tonight is to celebrate, tomorrow is for activities far less enjoyable." When the waiter brought her husband's wine, she quietly requested that he bring her a glass as well. If she was going to hold her tongue, then she was going to find some enjoyment in the evening.
	After speaking with Rosaline, Yurika took a moment to calmly collect her purse and wrap before exiting. Showing fear or haste in this crowd would bring the sharks of both families faster than blood in the water. Once outside, she looked around. "Romeo? Dou genki?"
	His eyes were red and he was sniffling when he looked up at her. "Not well," he answered. "I am in the room for an hour, and my fists fly. It is as if all else I do is in vain, the blood feud will control me."
	"No." Yurika sat down on the pavement, gently reaching out to try and catch his face in her hands and inspect the damage. "If Rosaline isn't mad at you, and she isn't, you aren't allowed to be blame yourself."
	He meekly let her hold his face, leaning close to her. "But she is a forgiving sort, far more so than I. Did I tell you she planned to become a nun?"
	"A nun?" Yurika grinned slightly, fingers delicately assessing the evidence of his brawl. "You didn't mention it, and I doubt the fair Rosaline has the proper temperament. I think that after the wedding, that bully-boy is going to get an earful from her. She may be forgiving and sensible, yes, but not a pushover." "But I am supposed to tell you that she 'bears you no ill-will', or something like that," she said. "Huh. You're going to need some ice on that, aren't you?"
	"I have had worse," Romeo said, wincing a little at the pressure of her fingers. "Aye, a nun. Last summer she was truly devoted to her holy virginity." Or at least to protecting it from him. "But thou hast reason, the calling as a whole may be ill-suited for her even had she not chosen my cousin's kinder hands. I hope she does speak with Abra. Thank you for passing the message along."
	"I'm sure you have, ronin," she teased, "but that's no reason to show up to your hearing tomorrow looking like a complete hooligan. A little ice now will reduce the damage later." There was little doubt in Dōjima's mind what Rosaline had been defending her virginity from, and she smiled wider. "You're terrible, absolutely terrible. No wonder all the Capulets dislike you, if you Montague boys go around seducing their sisters and cousins."
	Romeo flashed a grin at that, looking more like his normal self. "We don't do it often! But we cannot help it if we are handsome, and our mouths contain teeth where theirs have great wodges of metal, and we bathe more than once a week..." He probably could have gone on, but he stopped himself. "Ice might not be a bad idea at that. Should we get some before we go back to the room?"
	"I don't know, can I take you to the gas station to get ice without starting a riot?" she asked, bopping his nose with a finger. "But yes, we should stop and get something for that face of yours. Then we'll get you home and to bed. Sound like a plan?"
	"I think I can behave myself for that long," Romeo said, then, considering, added, "and I'll wait in the car." He tilted his head to kiss the finger. "It's a plan, especially if I may find my way to your room once all is dark."
	"As long as you can find your way out again," Yurika said, giggling. "I'd rather not face your father's wrath for seducing you." Glancing around, she quickly leaned in to place a chaste kiss against his lips before standing up to tug him to his feet. "Come on. The sooner we get you some ice and go back, the sooner I can plead a headache and retire to my room for the evening."
	The chaste kiss would have to content Romeo, for now, and he let himself be tugged along. "I have no plans to tempt anyone to wrath," he promised, unlocking the car door. "I'll flee before the first rays of sun accost the night."