( the great gatsby ) homeless forever.

[sportsman]

You don't even like me, and you choose to do this anyway?

[ Tom scoffs, clearly indignant, though he seems to take heart at the idea that he got chosen over anyone else. ]

You had best make this worth my time. I've never been much for taking marching orders.

Comments

I made a noise that woke up my dog. A noise of joy.

[trimalchio]

[Well it's about time.

no, it's not about time it will NEVER be time and Tom Buchanan does not need to be here he ruins everything]

...Mr. Buchanan.

[No old sport for you.]

ahaha, i live to please!

[sportsman]

[ By contrast, Tom seems to feel entirely entitled to his space, his expression immediately taking on a sneer. ]

Gatsby. [ And, in a tone that suggests exactly the opposite: ] What a pleasant surprise.

best birthday. :3

[trimalchio]

Always good to see you. Don't mind if I call you Tom, do you old sport?

[sportsman]

[ Though the idea fairly obviously grates at him, for the sake of politesse: ] Of course not. It's my name, isn't it?

[trimalchio]

Fantastic old sport. [He nods] Just fantastic. Now if you need anything now, you let me know. Been here for awhile.

[There is an edge to his voice] Keeping an eye on Daisy.

[sportsman]

[ Almost immediately, Tom's demeanor darkens, his brow furrowing, though his mouth remains pulled into a strained sort of smile. ]

Lucky I'm here now, then. Doesn't look like she'll need you hovering around anymore.

[herartificialworld]

No, you'd much rather march to the beat of your own drum.

[You are the last person she expected to see around... Do forgive the wistful, bored sound of her voice darling.]

[sportsman]

[ Almost immediately, Tom's demeanor softens, though whether that's an affectation or genuine affection remains to be seen. The tone of her voice doesn't particularly seem to bother him, if only because it's the way that most in their social circle sound most of the time. ]

Of course, my dear. There's no other way for a man to live his life, is there?

[herartificialworld]

I suppose there isn't, darling. Is your writer planning on sending you somewhere, then?

Or just keep you around to toy with as they seem happy to do?

[sportsman]

Just the latter, thank god. What about you, Daisy? Headed anywhere?

[herartificialworld]

Oh how lucky indeed.

[For you.. Me... all of us, really.]

She has some thoughts, yes.

[sportsman]

[ Without missing a beat: ] And would she care to share them?

[ At this point it's more a matter of possession — as is everything in their day and age — than any other kind of vested personal interest. ]

!!!!

[fuckthejazzage]

No, I can't imagine why anyone would think you would.

o-orz

[sportsman]

[ There's only a moment's pause before Tom continues on, apparently not suspicious enough of Nick to want to think any double meaning in his words possible. ]

It's a point of pride, my boy. As it should be for you, too.

so excite

[fuckthejazzage]

Of course it is. You do what you like. ['And don't care about who gets left behind', he's tempted to add, but -- he'll keep it neutral. He's good at that.]

[sportsman]

[ He's lucky for it, all things considered. ]

There's no point in having life dictated to you, Nick. Don't tell me you don't agree.

[fuckthejazzage]

Well, no, but simply doing as you like can't be the way of the world, either. There's got to be a sort of order somewhere.

[sportsman]

Ah, order. Now that, I'll agree with. There's the law, of course, though God only knows that changes whenever politics deems it fit. Then there's the natural order— Daisy's told you about my interests, I know, but—

—there's the law, see, and there's us, at the top of the chain. The entire rest of the world is at our fingertips.

[fuckthejazzage]

It certainly does seem like it, doesn't it. [Keeping his voice carefully neutral, again.]

nick pls

[sportsman]

Oh, lighten up, won't you? Life's no fun if you go through it looking so morose. A drink, maybe? Just to take off the edge.

[fuckthejazzage]

A drink sounds excellent, let's. [Tom, you are not good for his sobriety.]

I'm mostly amused by the matching names...

[sportswoman]

They pick us up on whims... Something you've surely noticed by now.

haha, coincidence strikes again

[sportsman]

Disgraceful, if you ask me. Still, so long as she doesn't try to utterly shanghai me, I'll tolerate a little of it.

[sportswoman]

You have no choice but to tolerate it.

[She stretches a bit and lounges.]

yes excellent

[beafool]

Trouble in paradise, Tom?

[ As always, her voice is carefully playful, but with that slight edge that's ambiguously sarcastic. ]

c:

[sportsman]

Eh. [ Tom's answer is noncommittal at best, his smile somewhat strained, though he quickly brightens. ]

A minor tiff, maybe. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, darling.

ilu

[beafool]

Of course. [ He never thought she needed to worry her pretty little head, after all. ]

I'm sure your writer wouldn't dream of arguing with such a great, glorious, hulking specimen of a man.

asdg;alk thank you!

[sportsman]

[ Unsurprisingly, the appeal to his vanity works — enough so to scratch out any byway through which he might have picked up on any sarcasm. ]

Naturally. I don't intend to stand for this sort of nonsense, and neither should you. I'll make sure of it.

♥

[beafool]

And how will you do that, when you're all the way over there and your dear wife is over here?

[ You're not in the same headspace, Tom. ]

[sportsman]

[ Perhaps not, but he seems to feel confident in his assertions anyway. He's quick to smile, reaching out to catch Daisy's chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. ]

Come, now. When have you ever known me to lose an argument, hm?

[beafool]

[ For a moment, her expression subtly sours, as she fights the urge to turn away from his touch. However, she quickly recovers with a coy smile. ]

Perhaps this will be the first.

[sportsman]

[ It's sad, in the end, exactly how quickly their relationship had lost its sheen. Still, it's not something Tom lingers on, instead feigning offense at Daisy's words. ]

Would that make you happy, if it were?

[beafool]

[ There were once moments of happiness, albeit rare and fleeting. Still, she doesn't want to linger on that topic either; it only worsens her cynicism. ]

What would make you entertain that silly thought, darling?

[sportsman]

Then banish the thought. [ Not a direct answer, maybe, but he does what he likes. ] There's no fight I won't win for my girl.

[beafool]

[ "And which girl is that? You seem to have so many." Of course, she can't speak those words.

Time to change the subject. She always preferred distraction to confrontation. ]

Tell me about your writer, Tom. Does she have plans for you?

[sportsman]

None, by the looks of it. It's a goddamn insult, is what it is.

[beafool]

Most would consider it a blessing, dear.

[ Considering how dangerous a majority of games are. ]

[sportsman]

Oh, no, not the lack of plans in terms of the larger whole, just— this whole mess. This being paraded about like a show pony.

[beafool]

Mm, I can't imagine anyone would enjoy being regarded as little more than a trophy.

[ Again, she returns to the comfort of veiled comments. A retort that seems like innocent agreement but, in reality, has a dual meaning. ]

[sportsman]

[ If he picks up on it, then Tom makes no indication of the fact, instead pushing on. ]

The sooner I can put an end to it, the better. Are you enjoying yourself? I can hardly imagine that anyone would.

[beafool]

There are benefits, I suppose.

[ Being away from her darling husband, for one. ]