Out in the kitchen, Phoebe delicately fingers a white embroidered handkerchief stained with Raige's blood, like, washcloth, props people. She was using a dark blue washcloth to sand the edges off her gaping tit wound. Whatever. Phoebe folds the handkerchief in half and wings the following spell:
Lead me back from whence this came:
Help me help my sister's pain.
A swirling cloud of glowing golf balls engulfs the Feebs, who dematerializes.
Castle Montanague. A Buttfuck relative I'll be calling Benvolio slams through a door as the slampiece himself exchanges words with his irked father. Seems Lord Montanague blames Raige for this freshest outbreak of hostilities between the feuding families. Slampiece Buttfuck rightly argues that she's there to help, and huffs off with a highball glass filled with something chunky. He passes through a gorgeous marble-floored hallway to enter the massive, high-ceilinged library. Nice house, Buttfuck. He presents the chunky potion to Raige and explains that it's "a family recipe" that'll help her heal. She's bleeding again, by the way, likely from the dive to the grass a couple of scenes ago. And speaking of healing, why didn't she have the useless Dolt knit up that gaping tit wound instead of ruining another blouse? Oy. Lady Montanague sullenly strides past the open library doors with a tray of potions. She pauses long enough to give Raige the evil eye, then continues on her way. Buttfuck settles into a chair to gift us all with a little backstory. He claims the Flaming Ball Of Smacking Hapless Raige To The Carpet was in fact concocted by the Callapulets to throw suspicion upon the Montanagues, and therefore justify further escalation of the conflict. He adds that neither family is bad as Raige understands the word; they're just bad for each other.
As he's speaking, Benvolio slithers into the library to retrieve another tray of potions from a low table near the doors. Raige notices the scars marring Benvolio's neck, and quite naturally asks about them. Buttfuck explains that the Callapulets long ago cursed the Montanagues with a disfiguring plague, to which they retaliated with a pox of boils. Raige examines Buttfuck's relatively clear complexion and wonders why he's not sporting the same sort of scars his kinsman has. Buttfuck claims the plagues afflicted only active practitioners of magic. As he himself had rejected his own powers, or something, he remained unaffected. The last time Buttfuck practiced magic, he admits, it "brought [him] to a place [he doesn't] want to go to again." He rises and crosses to the mantel to direct Raige's attention to a framed photo. "That's Olivia, my fiancée," he notes, gesturing towards the picture. "Olivia Callaway." "Sleeping with the enemy," Raige smiles, nodding in approval. "She was actually killed in the crossfire last year," Buttfuck buzz-kills. D'oh! Raige, instantly apologetic, offers her condolences. "It's okay," Buttfuck allows. "You didn't know." Referring back to his dead Juliet, Buttfuck notes, "She'd be more upset than anybody that this truce ended -- she wanted peace." "I'm here to help," Raige assures him.