"Jackson, yeah. Or Jack." He took the bag of chips, tearing it open and setting it on the counter before he grabbed a chip and popped it in his mouth. His smile quirked up. "And you're... Gatsby, yeah? You're a year ahead of me, like Luca. Or TJ." A shrug indicated the door to the kitchen, and probably their host, wherever he was.
He turned, leaning back against the counter with his elbows, head tilted slightly as he looked over at Gatsby. "This? Is nothing like home. I never even dream of places like this. Well, maybe when I'm famous, but still, seems so big I'd rattle around it in and go nuts from the boredom after a bit." He nudged the bag of chips towards Gastby, offering.