[i]Enter [color=bcd4e6]Demetrius[/color][/i]

Everybody was all in a dither preparing for the Midsummer Festival, and Demetrius would've been perfectly happy to let them dither along without him if it weren't for Helena, who had pulled him aside and began her ceaseless, giddy yammering. Naturally, Helena’s casual assumption that there was no way Demetrius would abandon her to join in with such a tedious, irksome part of Stratford life had the opposite effect. Demetrius was going to find a way to disentangle himself from her, even if it meant having to associate with his inferiors. Maybe he’d even find the experience entertaining, though he thought that highly unlikely. Still, it was worth a shot -- [i]anything[/i] was more tolerable than Helena.

Not-so-surreptitiously wrenching his arm free from his companion’s grasp, Demetrius sent her on her way with nothing more than a glare and a few choice words. Always so sensitive, that one, though she would surely return to his side within the next fifteen minutes. ...When does she [i]not[/i]? If Demetrius knew anything about Helena, it’d be that she was the one person in the world more bullheaded than he was. Of course, some would argue that her undying devotion towards him was a quality, not a flaw; but they weren’t the ones who were on the receiving end of it, were they?

Lighting a cigarette, Demetrius took a few moments to take in his surroundings. There were a couple of stalls; some selling fresh produce, others selling handmade trinkets.The town square wasn’t full quite just yet, but it was starting to be. People streamed in from each of the connecting streets, streetlights flickering on as the sun dipped down below the horizon, streaks of orange and purple splashing across the sky. Demetrius made a beeline for where most of the crowd was gathered, the heels of his Louis Vuitton wingtips clicking against the cobbled streets. Perhaps he’d be able to lose Helena there, when she inevitably came looking for him, once again. There was also the added bonus of putting himself in close proximity with a vendor selling toffee apples. He [i]was[/i] getting a little hungry, after all, and he always did have a sweet tooth.

Then, he noticed someone. Two someones, in fact. Constable Macbeth and… Lavinia, was it? Demetrius had heard of the tragedy that befell her, though that was pretty much a given. One had to be living under a rock to be ignorant of such an event, and he found it particularly ironic that one of the perpetrators shared his name. Part of him wondered how Ms. Andronicus would react to this coincidence, perhaps he’d make it his business find out, after the Constable takes his leave, but for now, he simply stayed put, filling his lungs with smoke.