(Untitled)

[slasherofprices]

Simon Skinner has been coming in from Chicago a lot* as of late. Today is no different. He has a delectable looking pastry shoved in his mouth and a large sketch pad held under his arm. This (the sketch-pad) he places on a table, which ought to announce to any chair seekers that this spot is his, dangit. After a few attempts to communicate to bar

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[thegreat_gatsby]

It was only a few moments after Simon Skinner sat down that a figure was standing on the other side of the table, eyes darting about the newspaper.

It had been a while since Gatsby had last seen one.

Even though he knew virtually nothing about Sandford, or the year the newspaper purported itself to be from, just the sight of the paper was oddly comforting.

[slasherofprices]

As has been noted several times before, Simon Skinner is not adept in the skills of "Honoez, Somebody Iz Watchin Me!" In fact, he is not very adapt in any skills that require observation, as Nicholas Angel can certainly attest to.

Which pretty much means that Simon's reading his paper in complete, blissful ignorance.

[thegreat_gatsby]

To Skinner's credit, Gatsby was only interested in the paper.

He straightened up after a second or two more, sighing. Turning his head to look around, he gestured to a passing waitrat.

"A glass of scotch, please."

[slasherofprices]

Simon, so caught up as he is in the news of Chicago politics, finds there is another downfall of not being observant: namely, by not watching what he's doing, he's not being careful. And subsequently drops a glazed strawberry on the article he's reading. He lets out a soft curse, placing the newspaper on the table and picking the strawberry off the paper.

...and stealthily popping it in his mouth.

No part of Ana's pastries should ever be abandoned for whatever reason!

[thegreat_gatsby]

Gatsby watched Simon with mild interest, hands tucked casually in his pockets.

"Good, old sport?"

[slasherofprices]

"Beg your pardon?" he asks, looking (innocently) up from his newspaper.

[thegreat_gatsby]

"The pastry."

[slasherofprices]

"Ah--yes."

[thegreat_gatsby]

"Glad to hear it."

At this point, Gatsby supposed, introductions were in order -- he'd be being rude, otherwise.

And so, he put out his right hand.

"Jay Gatsby."

Odd, how he hadn't even considered using his real name. Then again, not really. Even in death, he was still the him that he had made.

[slasherofprices]

[ ooc: so sorry for being slow... i has fatigue that is kicking my ass. ]

Simon...

...that name...

He's not a huge consumer of American literature. He likes the classics, the greats, but in all other regards he is in the tank for mother England. Still, F. Scott Fitzgerald's nothing to sniff at. He pauses, noticeably, before leaning forward to shake Gatsby's hand.

"Simon Skinner."

[thegreat_gatsby]

Jay briefly wondered whether the pause had anything to do with the other being familiar with the West Egg, but dismissed the thought.

"A pleasure to meet you, Simon. Hope I'm not disturbing your reading?"

[slasherofprices]

"No. The pastry did that."

[thegreat_gatsby]

Gatsby actually laughed -- a short, quiet laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Miss Bar's doing?"

[ ooc; And mun must flee. Slowtimes for great justice? ]

[slasherofprices]

He shakes his head. "Ana Pascal's. I don't think you've met her."

The smile on Simon's face suggests he's rather fond of Miss Pascal*.

* UNDERSTATEMENT!!!

[ ooc: indeed! see ya later :D ]