"That's a very good point," he nodded, just grinning back at her like an idiot.
"None taken," Jay insisted, with a bit of a laugh, looking between the two of them in a sort of knowing manner.
"You know, The Sun Also Rises is a dick joke," he told her, in a bit of a drunken slur. "I mean, I mean, the publisher- You can't say fuck, shit, bitch, piss-" he mocked, counting the words off on his fingers. "Right prudish little shit so- anyway, what was I saying? Something about cock?" he pulled a face, wondering how the fuck he'd managed to start babbling on about genitalia. "Ah, fuck literature," he told her, quite intensely.
He watched as she downed her shot in turn, and tried not to laugh too much at her reaction to it. Everything was getting blurry and confusing.
"Are we just doing this back and forth until one of us passes out or admits defeat?" he asked, with a bit of a grin. "Okay, okay, Jay- give us the adventurous ones you were talking about-" he told him.
Gatsby looked reluctant for a moment, and then sighed in resignation, pulling red Aftershock from the shelf, and filling two glasses. "If you vomit, I'm not cleaning it up," he insisted, not sure why Hemingway just laughed in response- he really wasn't joking.
He sniffed it, and then drank it, the cinnamon taste burning like hell. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, banging the top of the bar and shaking his head in disgust. "No, no, no, that goes with Sambuca on the hate list," he insisted.