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Nick sat on the edge of his chair as Tom spoke, sporting a hushed smile. He could guess what Gatsby really did from the way he'd spoken of it with Wolfsheim and Nick, though Nick didn't want to make assumptions for if that wasn't the case.

As Gatsby came back, Nick relaxed a bit, accepting the champagne glass with a short nod. 

  "Yes, I'll say. Nice weather for a get-together such as this," Nick agreed a bit hastily, trying to break the silence and get the topic onto something else.

“How did he get all this money, anyway?” Tom asked gruffly, following Nick and Daisy to the four-person table. “He’s not old money, I can tell you that for sure.”

“He owns a chain of drugstores,” Daisy replied with a vague wave of her hand. “Calm down, Tom, we’re at a party. We’re supposed to have fun.” She adjusted her burnt-orange dress, the v-neck of it having slipped out of place a little.

“Well, I don’t like the looks of him,” Tom stated. “I intend to find out how he came by his money. I don’t buy that drugstore nonsense.”

Just then, Jay arrived with four glasses and a bottle of champagne. He set them on the table and sat down across from Tom, next to nick. “Here we are,” He said as he poured the champagne and handed the glasses out. “Lovely night, isn’t it? Warm, but with a bit of breeze.”

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Hello old sport

Hello. Is this Gatsby? Because if this isn't Gatsby, then I'll proceed to be concerned.

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Do you ship Natsby old sport

Natsby...? Ship? As in, sending a package? I'm afraid I'm not sure what you're talking about. Say, Natsby sounds a bit like Gatsby.

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Nick gave a short little nod, still a little nervous at it all. Everything could go wrong for his friends. Jay's hand had lingered on Daisy's too long; Daisy's eyes had softened too much. Tom must already know, right? 

Nick took a breath, smiling.

  "Come, let's go sit down for a moment while Gatsby gets us our drinks," he suggested, nodding towards a table at the side.

Jay usually didn’t attend his parties, but tonight was different. Tonight he knew Daisy would be there, though she came on Tom’s arm. He had dressed very carefully in preparation, and, in his nervousness, cut himself shaving. The small cut on his jawline was a stark contrast to his otherwise impeccable looks, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. He glanced into the mirror to check his hair before leaving his en-suite, heading downstairs, and joining the party. It took him a few minutes, but eventually his eyes fell on the three most important guests, and he went over to greet them.

“Nick, hello, old sport,” He said with a friendly smile, reaching out to shake his neighbor’s hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Buchannan, wonderful to have you.” His hand lingered on Daisy’s when he shook it, a contrast to the minimal contact he made with Tom. “I hope you enjoy yourselves. I believe we’ve met, Mr. Buchannan, at lunch a week or two ago,” He added politely.

“Yes, I remember,” Tom replied, eyes slightly narrowed at Jay, who didn’t seem to notice. “By the barber shop. You were with Nick here.”

Jay nodded politely. “I’m glad you two could make it. Shall we go sit down? I’ll get us a drink.”

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Nick followed a bit awkwardly, standing at a distance as the two became enveloped in each other. He found himself gravitating away from them, towards the wall. He'd just leave them be, he supposed. And, after a while, he finally managed to slip past them.

_____________________________

Nick shifted on his feet as They walked up to the big familiar house, standing hesitantly on the sidelines. Daisy was holding Tom's arm rather distantly, gazing into the house as if she was looking for something. 

Nick cleared his through, leaning forward a bit.

  "Shall we go in, then?" he asked. 

  "Yes. Shall we meet this Gatsby and hsi lavish parties?" Tom stated a bit snobbishly, stalking towards the house and pulling Daisy with him.

Nick swallowed as they arrived in. Sure, he liked Gatsby's parties alright. It was just that he wasn't completely comfortable with Tom there as well, knowing what Daisy and Jay felt for each other.

“Nonsense, old sport,” Jay replied, eyes still on Daisy. “I still have to show you the sauna and the ocean-themed guest room.” Wiping away another tear, Jay offered Daisy a reassuring smile and his arm, both of which she accepted. He was about to lead Daisy and Nick out of his room and over to the next one, but Daisy noticed the framed photograph and went over to it.

“Oh, Jay, your hair! I never knew it was curly.”

“I usually keep it quite short,” He answered with another smile. “That picture is quite old.”

“Who’s that man in it?” 

“That’s Dan Cody. He was a very good friend of mine.”

The picture showed a seventeen-year-old Jay on a large sailboat with a rather fat man in expensive-looking clothes, holding a bottle of something presumably alcoholic, his mustache adding to the geniality of his visage. “A very dear friend. Unfortunately, he died some years ago.”

Daisy gave an elegant nod of sympathy, her eyes lingering on the view out the window. Jay approached her and his timid arm found its way around her shoulders. “The green light at the end of your dock burns all night,” He commented in a hushed tone, as if it was some sort of gleeful secret the two shared. “You would be able to see it if not for the mist.” 

Then, all of a sudden, faint music laced itself through the air, the notes dancing on the breeze that came through the open window. Jay grinned. “That’ll be Klipspringer. Shall we?” He offered Daisy his arm again, and she took it. Jay glanced back over his shoulder at Nick to gesture for him to follow, and the three went back to the main foyer, where Klipspringer played a ridiculously large organ. He was a rather eccentric-looking fellow, his black hair concealing half his face, a mad look in his eye, but he played well. Jay shifted around Daisy and the two began to dance, too wrapped up in each other to notice Nick awkwardly standing at the foot of the stairs.

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Do you believe in the green light old sport

The green light...? Oh, Daisy's dock light? I suppose I do. I know it's there, after all; I've seen it in person. So I don't have to believe in it if I know it's there, anonymous. 

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You're an absolute Rose!

Is this Daisy? Because only Daisy's ever called me an 'absolute rose'. Either way, er...thank you?

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You should call Gatsby old sport. just once. Just for fun

Hmm...that's actually a good idea...

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If u had 12 potatoe what would u do

Probably make something with the potatoes...? If they were clean, that is. Or I would give them to Tom.

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((see this is what happens when people send me asks

that means you guys should send me asks))

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How does it feel to be the biggest third wheel ever?

I suppose I am quite a third wheel, aren't I?

Well. I suppose it's alright. I've just bought some nice little cakes, and if I'm still a third wheel, I get to eat them by myself.

((i don't know what that was omg))

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Do you think Gatsby is aware of the fact that your name isn't actually old sport?

Honestly, at some points, I've no idea.

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Nick watched with a quiet air as Daisy sobbed into the fine silk shirts, and Gatsby came down to comfort her. He sighed, leaning back on the desk.

After a while of quiet huffs of air from Daisy, they straightened up. Nick saw his chance, and took a small step forward.

  "I really think it's time I go..." he said quietly and Daisy composed herself.

He grinned, going up the stairs and throwing them all down, cottons of green fluttering alongside flannels of white and blue. 

“Oh, Jay, the mess you’re making! You’re going to have to refold every one of these,” Daisy cried, though she laughed as the shirts rained down on her.

Chuckling, Jay emptied another shelf, sending the fabrics billowing through the air until they made their landing on the bed. “What beautiful shirts!” Daisy repeated, gracefully falling onto the bed with a few shirts in her hands. She brought them to her face and laughed into them, though the laughter quickly subsided…

Noticing the gentle sobs that shook Daisy’s shoulders, Jay quickly made his way down, sitting next to her on the bed and cupping her face in his hand. “What’s wrong?” He asked gently, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

“I’ve never seen such… such beautiful shirts,” She whispered.

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Nick followed at a bit of a distance, letting his cousin and his neighbor have their moment of awe and cheer. He felt a bit awkward standing there, but he didn't say anything.

As they entered Gatsby's personal room, Nick glanced over the photos on the desk. A younger version of Gatsby stood with an older man on the deck of a boat, in ready sailing clothes.

Nick glanced over as Daisy gasped, running to the bed and looking up at the high shelves.

  "Why, those are the loveliest shirts I've ever laid eyes on!" she exclaimed, her hands trailing up as if to touch the fabrics high above her head.

Jay smiled, leading the two into the next room. “I’m afraid I haven’t put in a mermaid aquarium yet.” In the delerium invoked by Daisy’s presence, he made a mental note to purchase one before remembering that mermaids don’t exist. 

A few rooms later, they’d reached Jay’s bedroom, which was a large but rather plain affair; a bed with monogrammed sheets against the furthest wall, a floor-to-ceiling window outlooking the water, an armchair, a small bookshelf, and a small desk containing a laptop, a pencil cup, a phone, and a framed photograph of two men on a sailboat. Stairs lead to a loft that rimmed the room, full of racks of suits, shelves of shirts and pants and sweaters, and countless ties on racks. “I’ve got a man in London who sends me a selection of clothes at the beginning of each season,” He explained, gesturing above. 

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Nick and Jordan gravitated to the other side of the street with the rest of the group, just surveying from a distance.

  "I'm guessing so. It was a bit of a big deal," he replied carefully, giving a little sniff. Nick pondered that idea as they walked away from the site. Could it be his daughter? Or, perhaps his wife? Or a sister? Well, whoever it was, it was someone close to him.

Nick gave a small 'hum' as they stepped over the curb, curling his arm to his chest as Jordan held the edge of it in wondering.

  "I've no idea. That was a little more of a party, if I should say. But, you're right. Now what?"

A huge sigh.

Jordan, his wondering provoking her, then told him all that she heard. Her tone of voice fluctuated as this relay of information occured. The scandal of it all made the woman so excited, that she almost felt bad for thinking that way. Inhaling deeply after finishing, she found herself clutching Nick’s arm once more. “I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen something like this so close before. Perhaps in the papers or through other people but—”

Just then, the officers seemed to finish their jobs and began to tell the crowd to disperse, get home to their families and move along. The people left in waves. The first group left immediately. The second lingered for only a few minutes longer, then left, disappointed looks in their eyes, all hoping something else would happen in those extra minutes. Lastly, the group in which Jordan and Nick found themselves, had walked away, only to stand on the other side of the street. From where she stood, Jordan could see it all. From inside the shop, a young woman was carried out on a gurney, her sobs only barely audible from across the street. Jordan grimaced, and tightened her arm around Nick as she continued to watch. Mr. Waggoner stumbled toward the ambulance, climbing inside. As the sirens of the vehicle began to wail and fade into the distance, the remaining officers taped off the shop and left as well.

Jordan heaved a heavy sigh. Just like that, it was over. “Do you think that’ll reach the papers? I hope so. Poor Mr. Waggoner. I hope he’ll be safe from now on. Oh, and who was that girl? It looked like his daughter, don’t you think?” She pursed her lips together, her brows furrowing slightly. They began to walk away from the ruined shop and toward the opposite direction, toward something new. “What will we do with ourselves now, Nick?”