”Getting hard to sleep, blood is in my dreams. Love is killing me, trying to figure it out”

Figure It Out — Royal Blood

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Jay hurried along the bustling streets of 1920’s New York City as the snow fell peacefully, contrasting the loud city well. Meyer Wolfshiem had called him earlier that morning, wanting to meet up for a drink or two for whatever reason. Who was Gatsby to deny a friend a drink?

He finally made it to Meyer’s office, pushing open the door and stepping inside, out of the snow. “Ah, Mr. Gatsby,” the secretary spoke, looking up at him. “Mr. Wolfshiem’s back in his office.”

With that, Gatsby walked down the halls of the building, knocking on a wooden door where muffled conversation was heard from. “Come in!” Wolfshiem called from inside the office, letting Gatsby push open the door.

When Gatsby opened the door, his eyes didn’t land on Wolfshiem, rather another gentleman who was sitting in the chair in front of Wolfshiem, sipping on a glass of whisky as their eyes met.