Amongst the opulent grandeur of the Capulet's lavish ball, Mercutio and his friends found themselves indulging in a forbidden pleasure. The grand hall was a symphony of swirling masks, clinking glasses, and the sweet scent of exotic flowers. There, an abundance of elegant masked ladies mingled, their figures dancing like flowers in the wind. Yet, it was a slender, enigmatic figure in pure white that caught Mercutio's eye, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

"Pardon, my lady, madness is my passion, but I’ll give you this evening."

He almost jokingly purred at her, presenting a red rose, which he stole from someone in the hall. Mercutio gave a bowe to a stranger.