(no subject)
[ooc: Catch Nick on his way outside, or outside! If you tag him outside, be aware that he'll have company in the form of a wolf. But don't worry! Nero is friendly~
Also: SLOWTIME WARNING IS IN EFFECT since I must sleep soon. I am happily taking tags on this through tomorrow - the weekend!]
You know that saying, when one door closes, another one always opens?
This is a saying that holds true for Milliways patrons, especially Nick Carraway.
However, he did not suspect for a second that the door to his studio would lead him here, of all places. A look of mild shock passes over his face for the briefest of moments, after which he leans against the door frame and taps the old hockey stick that he uses as a cane a lightly against the floor.
tap, tap, tap
It's not long before his blank expression gives way to a smile, which gives way to a full-blown grin, and before he knows it, he's laughing. It's a low, throaty chuckle, the kind reserved for situations you can't quite believe you're in, and it goes on and on and on (he wonders how mad he must look) for a solid minute before dying out with the realization that he hasn't been here in ten years.
After some thought, he decides that he has some things to take care of. The first of these things is waiting somewhere outside, and that's where Nick heads, limping, avoiding eye contact with every patron.
He doubts anyone would recognize him in this state, anyway.
Also: SLOWTIME WARNING IS IN EFFECT since I must sleep soon. I am happily taking tags on this through tomorrow - the weekend!]
You know that saying, when one door closes, another one always opens?
This is a saying that holds true for Milliways patrons, especially Nick Carraway.
However, he did not suspect for a second that the door to his studio would lead him here, of all places. A look of mild shock passes over his face for the briefest of moments, after which he leans against the door frame and taps the old hockey stick that he uses as a cane a lightly against the floor.
tap, tap, tap
It's not long before his blank expression gives way to a smile, which gives way to a full-blown grin, and before he knows it, he's laughing. It's a low, throaty chuckle, the kind reserved for situations you can't quite believe you're in, and it goes on and on and on (he wonders how mad he must look) for a solid minute before dying out with the realization that he hasn't been here in ten years.
After some thought, he decides that he has some things to take care of. The first of these things is waiting somewhere outside, and that's where Nick heads, limping, avoiding eye contact with every patron.
He doubts anyone would recognize him in this state, anyway.