"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."

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.

Peter loses, and Ego patches him up afterward. Okay, this is only going to suck a lot.

But thou dost in thy passages of life
Make me believe that thou art only marked
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven
To punish my mistreadings.

In Egypt, the emperor sleeps poorly.

Morf experiences Dease's work at closer range than intended.

Connie makes her bones, almost.

Billy and Stu have something to celebrate.

“Dong jie fights well as always,” Mu Nihuang said, smiling. “It’s been a while since we’ve sparred; perhaps you can give me a match, as well?”

Xia Dong had had her own year of mourning. She had tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that Nie Feng had died a hero, had given his life to prevent a rebellion, and had succeeded. All things being equal, though, she’d rather her husband were alive.

Xia Dong realized the silence had dragged on too long. The smile on Mu Nihuang’s fac…

Don Draper has a bad habit of throwing money at his problem. His latest problem is Michael Ginsberg.