Max comes home for the first time since mom's funeral. He's running out of places to go.

The least Nathan can do at this stage in the proceedings is show Caleb a good time.

Billy and Eddie do business in the fall of 1984.

There in that white-gilt bedroom like a tomb, where I believe none of Gatsby's guests had ever before set foot except by mistake — none until Daisy, and I was only her adjunct and proxy, an accessory to her presence there in the house. He had forgotten about me then. He had forgotten about me now. I was his only witness.

The two of them are marked by water.

Art for reine_des_corbeaux.

Near misses in the Greek tutorial.

Tom and Peter, partners in disguise.

The first time, though of course he doesn't know it's the first time, everything went exactly according to plan. Crowley got the baby, right on time. He took it to the nunnery, and didn't stop to talk to the man waiting outside. He observed the whole thing, and made sure no funny business happened. At the end of the night, the Antichrist went home with the Dowlings.

It takes 600 more tries to get it going exactly according to the right plan.

"Whatever you want," Nathan finds himself saying when his shirt comes off over his head and his glasses hit the nightstand — like he's talking to himself, which he might as well be. "Don't think about it like should, or shouldn't. Don't think. Don't fucking try and figure it out. Come on. You can keep your shirt on."