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

Tris and Four take a detour.

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

Gibson surveys the evidence of his recreational activities as he readies himself to serve.

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.

Sing, o Muse, of the wrath of a philosophy major upon realizing his roommate/boyfriend has borrowed his copy of Fear & Trembling and has no intention of giving it back. Scenes from one highly troubled semester.

The two of them are marked by water.

Tom and Peter, partners in disguise.

"Don't," he says, thin and strangled — no, not strangled, really. Smothered. The word hardly left his throat at all, and if John hadn't been so close, just about on top of him in an enclosed space, he might never have heard.

(For the Tumblr prompt "things you said while you were driving".)