"Miss Summers, what a pleasure to meet you," he says, all charm as he summons his words for him. "And may I say, you're as bright as your surname compels a person to think." Hiding behind his words and the infectious mood he hopes to show makes him think that he can be that someone else, still. It's a desperate thread he's clinging onto, but it's all Gatsby has, these days.

"It was 1922 where I'm from. An auspicious year, I'd like to think. There was so much in the air," he reminisces, though it's not the year he wants to get back to. It's only another in the forward trudging of time away from meeting Daisy and knowing what his life has to look like.