The Emcee smirked. ”I am the Master of Celebrations… though you can call me the Emcee,” he firmly shook Gatsby’s hand.
Jay cocked his head a bit, his countenance on a thin line between
confused and intrigued. He had not been the only one to have heard
the song, could he?
“Hello?” He called out, eyes searching for a source of the
"And what are you doing here in Berlin, gut Herr? You seem like a foreigner… so what is your motive? These are troubling times here; if you want work, you’re very likely not going to get it. The job would go to a native German before someone like you,” he spoke with no contempt, merely curiosity.
“It’s a real pleasure, Mr. Emcee.” Gatsby continued, nodding his head respectfully, pressing his hand back to his side. “I’m actually here on a business trip, now that you ask, Old Sport. You see, I hail from New York. But thank you graciously for your concern.” He chuckled slightly, leaning a bit against his cane.
“So you’re an entertainer? That would fit quite nicely back at home; I throw large parties Saturday evenings. Roaring parties, I’m sure you would make a great guest performance there. You have an astounding voice.”
"Well he shouldn’t have given up so easily, don’t you think?" Christian asked, hoping it wasn’t offensive to say . "By that- I mean- if I had given up, " not gone against my father, "I wouldn’t have done a play but if he’s happy where he is then leave him be." His face fell from the smile he held and he shook his head, "N-not that you asked for advice, justa thought. " Stop that Christian, stop. Be curteous. "No, not famous…"
“I’m not quite sure how he feels about it…” Jay began, looking up at the cloudless night sky, “If I were to guess, I would say he’s still interested, but would rather make a living off something he thinks is possible…” His hands fiddled restlessly in his pockets, “Personally, I think he should pursue it, but I’m not going to badger him about it, he’s free to do what he pleases, I suppose. Have you tried to submit your work to a publishing company? I’m sure you would find a great deal of followers looking to read your literature, Old Sport.” He encouraged him, a modest grin stretched across tan features.
Literally heard a whity boy say this
“Where ya goin brah? Where ya scootin to?”
I DON’T DO GREETING POSTS
but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to play with you
it just means i don’t want to get lost in the shuffle
if i follow you, i want to talk to you and write with you
Making my 200+ follow forever. It’s going to be really long and I apologize in advance when I finally get it posted.