I defy you, stars!

*A man approaches you at a party. Your families have bad blood between them.* ROMEO: If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this. My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough tough with a tender kiss. **You say...** [[Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much]] [[I see you, pilgrim, but I'm not quite sure.]]

**You say...** Which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands which pilgrims' hands do touch, [[And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.]]

**You say...** You made that weird 'Ethiop' remark. [[Must we now kiss? I don't think it's the law]] [[And yet, I have a feeling in my core -]]

ROMEO: [[Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? | Option 1B]]

**You say...** [[We've all got lips - what makes you think I care?]] [[Do you mean 'me'? You talk like I'm not there.]] [[Most statues are in need of some repair.]]

**You say...** The saints know if you're blushing in the dark. ROMEO: [[Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?]]

**You say...** Your lips prefigure nightingales and larks. ROMEO: [[Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? | Option 1B]]

ROMEO: [[O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do!]]

ROMEO: [[O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! | Option 2B]]

ROMEO: O, then, my idol, what could make you new? **You say...** [[More space would help. Look: can we get some air?]]

ROMEO: [[O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! | Option 2C]]

ROMEO: They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. **You say...** [[Saints do not move, through grant for prayers' sake.]] [[What don't you get here? Dude. Give me a break.]]

**You say...** [[That's better. Do you have a cigarette?]] [[Are you part of this smart Verona set?]]

ROMEO: Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. [[*He kisses you.* | Option A]]

ROMEO: Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. [[*He kisses you.* | Option C]]

ROMEO: Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. [[*He kisses you.* | Option B]]

ROMEO: Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged. **You say** [[Then have my lips the sin that they have took.]] [[Sin? Hmm. It's late - I'd like to thank the cook...]]

**You say** [[Look, pal, I'll break this lamp over your head.]]

ROMEO: What did I do? It's all a bit of fun. **You say** [[Let's see how much fun, when you wind up dead.]] [[You've had too much. Go home, and go to bed.]]

**You say...** [[Do you mean 'me'? You talk like I'm not there.]] [[Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.]] [[Most statues are in need of some repair.]]

ROMEO: They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. **You say...** [[I'm not a saint. There must be some mistake.]] [[What don't you get here? Dude. Give me a break.]]

ROMEO: They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. **You say...** [[Saints do not move, through grant for prayers' sake.]] [[I'm not a saint. There must be some mistake.]]

ROMEO: Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged. **You say** [[Can we go back? You told me not to move.]]

ROMEO: Wait, did I? Sorry, that's not right, I - look - **You say** [[Keep walking. I'll find my own spot to groove.|Now sling your hook.]] [[Shut up, and take this back.]]

ROMEO Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. [[*He kisses you again* | 2]]

*'Well, that was unexpected,' you think in the aftermath. The stars continue twinkling, as if to say they can neither confirm nor deny.*

*You leave, and find a secluded spot elsewhere on the dancefloor. Finally, the night is yours. A skylight shows the stars above you, dancing to your cousin's playlist as best they can.* <audio src="https://soundcloud.com/robyn/dancing-on-my-own" autoplay> <iframe width="100%" height="450" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/2863337&auto_play=true&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true"></iframe>

**You say** [[You kiss by th'book.]] [[Now sling your hook.]]

*You kiss him.* ROMEO [*blushing, stunned*]: [[You kiss by th'book.]]

ROMEO: Give me my sin again! *He tries to kiss you again* **You say** [[I'll get my gun. |You kiss by th'book.]]

ROMEO: Give me my sin again. *He tries to kiss you* **You say** [[There's always one.|Now sling your hook.]]

ROMEO: I keep one stashed beneath my epaulette. **You say** [[That's strange, but - well, at least you have resources.]] [[Half of all marriages end in divorces.]] [[These summer nights are great for riding horses.]]

ROMEO: Right. **You say** [[Are our lives fixed on their courses?]]

ROMEO: I wish I wasn't, but it's hard to get... **You say** [[Away?]]

ROMEO: Thanks. I brought wine, as well. You like rosé? *He produces a bottle hidden in his bag.* **You say** [[You stole that from my house? I can't endorse this.]] [[Why do you make me think of cosmic forces?]] [[The course of true love, as you know, of course, is -]]

ROMEO: Why would you choose to bring that up today? **You say** [[The course of true love, as you know, of course, is -]]

ROMEO: Shall we go to the stable? **You say** [[Well - OK.]] [[Ha! No way.]]

**You say** Or can they sway and swoop and veer and stray? [[The course of true love, as you know, of course, is -]] [[What if I went and studied Ancient Norse Myth?]]

**You say** [[The course of true love, as you know, of course, is -]]

**You say** [[The course of true love, as you know, of course, is - | 4B]]

**You say** [[Erratic. But some games we have to play.]] [[Misguided. And I think we've lost our way.]] [[Surprising. What has brought us here today?]]

**You say** [[Cock-eyed at best. Let's not go near the hay.]] [[Misguided. And I think we've lost our way.]]

**You say** Is this one worth a try? [[You kiss him.]] or [[You don't.]]

**You say** The party's back inside. [[You kiss him.]] or [[You don't.]]

**You say** Fate whispers 'Kiss.' Shall I? [[You kiss him.|5B]] or [[You don't.]]

ROMEO [*blushing, stunned*]: [[Oh, gosh - I say...|You kiss by th'book.]]

**You say** [[Now go away.|Now sling your hook.]]

ROMEO [*blushing, stunned*]: [[You kiss by th'book.|6B]]

*You jump on a horse, help him up behind you, and gallop into the distance. Behind you, you hear the sound of the party - your uncle drinking, your cousin fighting, somebody playing the lute on the stairs. No one asked him. You're leaving all of that behind. You hope you made the right decision. You look up at the stars to guide your way. Naturally, they don't tell you anything.*

**You say** Thanks for the cigarette. [[You kiss him.]] or [[You don't.]]

**You say** The party's back inside. [[You kiss him.]] or [[You don't.]]

ROMEO: I'm a tornado, babe. [[You kiss him.]] or [[You don't.]]

**You say** I could. I should. I will. I'll start today. ROMEO: [[The Gods be with you, J.]]

[[You kiss him.|7A]] or [[You don't.|7B]]

ROMEO [*blushing, stunned*]: [[Oh, gosh - I say...|8A]]

**You say** [[Thanks. You're OK.]]

*Years later, in your corner office at the University of Uppsala, you take a break from a particularly sticky point in your commentary on the 'Poetic Edda' and get up to look out of the window. There is a mug of extraordinarily strong Swedish coffee in your hand. Something about the coolness of the breeze, or the quality of the light, takes you back to a party at your parents' house, many years ago and thousands of miles away. You think back over the choices you made which brought you here, and the hand fate dealt you. It comes back to you now: there was a boy you kissed, outdoors at that party, right before you jumped over the fence and ran down the hill to the coast, and the first ship bound for Sweden. You try to fix his features in your mind, but they keep blurring into the face of Baldur in the illustration you hung above your wastepaper basket. Oh well: it doesn't matter. Really, he could have been anybody. You rub your eyes, but that doesn't clarify anything - all that happens is you start seeing stars.*

*Years later, in your corner office at the University of Uppsala, you take a break from a particularly sticky point in your commentary on the 'Poetic Edda' and get up to look out of the window. There is a mug of extraordinarily strong Swedish coffee in your hand. Something about the coolness of the breeze, or the quality of the light, takes you back to a party at your parents' house, many years ago and thousands of miles away. You think back over the choices you made which brought you here, and the hand fate dealt you. It comes back to you now: that was the night you jumped over the fence and ran down the hill to the coast, and the first ship bound for Sweden. It could have been any night, but it happened to be that night. As you did, your eyes catch the illustration of Baldur you hung above your wastepaper basket, and his features remind you of someone you once met, but you can't think who. Wherever he is, you wish him well. You hope his story turned out as well as yours. You decide to head home. You drain the coffee, thinking as you do so that the dark liquid bears a passing resemblance to a starless night.*