Ernest/Abi
Ernest had wandered a little from room to room, on one hand feeling that he shouldn't be so blatantly prying around another man's home, but on the other... it was fucking Gatsby's house. There were endless rooms, it seemed. Bathrooms and bedrooms, all decorated so beautifully and ornately- it was like every room was better than the last.
And then he walked into the study, smiling a little when he saw Abi perched there, lost in Joyce. Fuck, look at her- he was a total asshole, wasn't he? He closed the door lightly behind him, leaning against it as he watched her read.
"Only you would leave a party to get your nose stuck in a Joyce novel," he told her, with great affection.