marvelous rosaline

29

Under the moonlight, Rosalin looked at Gatsby in shock.

The two turned back to the residence just now covered in blood, and shocked the madam who had finally calmed down.Gatsby still had wounds on his hands, and he didn't even bother to bandage them. He took out a few more hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and put them on the table.

"I put the money here."

As he said, he pulled out a clean white cloth from the bathroom and pressed it on the wound, and took the car key from the door: "Let me use the car, ma'am, my name is Jay Gatsby, turn around I will ask someone to clean it up and send the car back to you."

A few hundred-dollar bills in 1925 are more than enough to buy a resident’s old car, let alone a borrowed car.

Gatsby went straight to the garage, opened the car door with the key, and turned around to find that Rosalin was not waiting in front of the co-pilot's door, but was standing behind him.

Moreover, it is very close.

The delicate face was close at hand, and when Gatsby turned around, the bridge of his nose barely brushed against Rosalind's cheek.He could even feel the young girl's breath and temperature on his skin.

This surprised Gatsby, he stepped back subconsciously, and bumped his elbow directly against the door.

"pain!"

Gatsby let out a cry of pain and waved his hands wildly.

Rosalin tilted her head blankly.

Just now he didn't shout a word when he took the blade in his hand, but now he flinched.

It seemed that Rosalin Poirot was a more dangerous killer than Moran, and it seemed that hitting a door would be more serious than a knife wound.

"Can you drive?" She looked at Gatsby's injured hand.

Gatsby: "I can't let you drive...no."

He finally discovered that Rosalin had the ability to lead people's thinking with a single sentence.

Jay Gatsby took another step back, wishing he could put his whole back against the car door: "What are you doing so close to me?"

"Huh? Oh."

Rosalin wrinkled her nose slightly: "Your smell has changed."

Gatsby: "What?"

Getting so close is to confirm the cognition just now.

For a long time, all those who owed their lives, in Rosalin's cognition, smelled like corpses.

The original Gatsby was no exception. When Rosalin realized that he had participated in the First World War, the stench of corpses followed.

And just now, he killed someone with his own hands in front of her - Sebastian Moran couldn't survive.

But the smell of corpses on Gatsby disappeared?

Rosalin couldn't understand the reason.

"It's nothing."

But she didn't know how to explain it to Gatsby, so she simply chose to give up: "Let's go."

It's just that Rosalind can't drive, so she has to trouble Gatsby to endure the injury and sit in the driver's seat.

but……

When the engine started, Rosalin glanced to her side.

Gatsby, she thought, was enjoying it.

"You—um..."

Rosalin quickly sorted out her sentences: "You seem to be in good spirits."

Gatsby:"……"

The man in the driver's seat couldn't help but laugh.

The car drove out of the garage, and as it moved forward, the moonlight squeezed into the closed room one by one, and his beautiful side face flickered under the faint light.

"Just tell me what you have," said Gatsby, "do you still think you'll offend me now?"

Also.

For Gatsby, the most offensive thing is probably to attack his sweetheart.

And Rosalin has already done this, and it was done face to face.

So she said bluntly: "It seems that Daisy's matter didn't affect you."

Gatsby:"…………"

A brief silence spread in the carriage.

Rosalin sighed helplessly: "Is it still offending you?"

"No."

Gatsby didn't look at her, wondering if the traffic was really worth noting, or if he was avoiding it.

"It's because I don't know how to treat you..." The man hesitated for a moment, and then said, "I admit to you, everything you said before is correct."

"I told you a long time ago that Daisy is not as perfect as you think."

"I mean she's not as important as I thought."

Rosalin raised her eyebrows upon hearing this.

She re-observed Gatsby several times up and down, and finally confirmed that he did not lie, perfunctory, or self-deception, but really thought so.

"That's good." Rosalin nodded.

"that's it?"

Gatsby smiled again.

"You once asked me," he continued, "whether I was chasing the one I love, or the green light? I didn't understand what you meant when you asked, but the night after Daisy tore her face, I Thinking back to that question."

"What does that green light mean? I thought for a long time before I figured it out, because I saw you before the green light on the other side of Long Island. At that time, I would often stand in front of the green light and let myself go. Live it, want to have it, because I thought that meant Daisy, but then I realized it wasn't.

"What I want is the... hope in my heart. Rosalind, you are right. Time has changed, I have changed from the poor boy I was to Gatsby today, and Daisy can't stay the same and wait What I want is the love I thought, the beauty and ideal land I thought, these are not what the current Daisy will give me."

After speaking, he took advantage of the stability of the road ahead and glanced at Rosalind.

Under the moonlight, his blue eyes became clearer.

"And you acted too quickly, Rosalind." Gatsby said sincerely, "I'm still in a mess here, and Thiago suddenly rushed to me and said that you were arrested by Professor Moriarty. Where do I have the time to indulge in my love life?"

Well, it turns out that I have it too—to be precise, it's the professor's credit.

"If you think about it, I haven't lost anything."

Gatsby said: "I have gained a lot along the way, and all the wealth and experience are all earned by myself."

Rosalind: "That's how it is, it's—"

"that is?"

Not anymore.

She still cares.

Why did Gatsby's smell change?

Jay Gatsby is still Jay Gatsby, his appearance and personality have not changed, even the smile he is showing at this moment is the same as before.Rosalin didn't understand, it was obvious that his white shirt was covered with black blood, but besides the smell of blood, mud and sweat, there was only the smell of mellow apple brandy left on his body.

"I do not know."

Rosalin was very confused: "All along, everyone will leave a different smell in my heart."

"odor?"

Gatsby's first reaction was to turn his head and smell his arm hastily, thinking that there would be a strange smell.

"Not an objective taste."

Rosalin pointed to her chest: "It's the smell from here."

Gatsby suddenly realized.

"I think what the other party should look like." She said: "It will have that kind of smell."

"Then what do I smell like?"

"The stench of corpses and alcohol."

Rosalin replied honestly: "Because you have killed people, and you are also in the bootlegging business."

Gatsby laughed out loud, "It's really straightforward."

Rosalind: "But now the smell of corpses on your body is gone."

Obviously it was her own feelings, but Rosalin couldn't understand it logically. Could it be that the people Gatsby killed didn't count in her heart?

She was confused, but Gatsby looked more relaxed.

His smile was even prettier than before, the galaxy was brilliant, and it was not half as good as the smile in front of him.Jay Gatsby nodded solemnly: "Then, I'm glad my impression in your mind has changed."

Rosalin was startled suddenly.

She looked at Gatsby in surprise, as if she didn't quite understand why he could sum up the answer so quickly.

But if you think about it carefully...it seems to be the case.

However, the impression has changed, what has changed?

She looked at Gatsby and blinked again in confusion, as if she didn't quite understand.

Rosalin has never been very good at dealing with emotional problems, so speaking, she feels that her inner feelings seem to be more difficult to understand than math problems.

Forget it.

If you can't figure it out, don't think about it for the time being, there are more important things right now.

So Rosalin naturally collected her thoughts and returned to reality from the subjective world: "You just said that the third manuscript is on the way, what do you mean?"

Gatsby glanced at his watch.

It was almost dawn, and the battered used car drove into Long Island.Such a civilian car is out of tune with the luxury houses lined up around it.

Of course, the distressed two people in the car are not on the same road as the peaceful, fairyland-like villa.

"I informed the person with the third manuscript to come to New York."

While explaining, Gatsby drove the car into his mansion: "This time should also be here."

Rosalind: "The holder of the third manuscript is not in New York?"

Gatsby: "You'll understand when you see it."

But she doesn't understand now!

"Why do you know the clues of the third manuscript?" Rosalin asked.

"It was the other party who took the initiative to contact me."

"Why did the other party take the initiative to contact you?"

"...Rosalin, wouldn't it be better for you to ask the person involved?"

That's different!

She has no clue yet, why did Gatsby get the clues one step ahead?Not even James Moriarty could figure it out!

In this regard, Rosalind is particularly persistent.

Countless possibilities flashed through her mind.

While the two were talking, they had already entered the hall of the mansion.Rosalin was about to put forward the possibilities she had listed, but Gatsby stopped helplessly: "You can change your clothes, and we can talk again."

Rosalind: "But—"

She opened her mouth, and the subtle, extremely familiar smell suddenly stopped Rosalin's words.

The smell of snow, ermine, and roses.

When the smell gradually became clear, the clang of high heels on the marble floor echoed in the air.

Rosalin's eyes widened and she turned her head in disbelief.

She saw that extremely friendly figure walking down the stairs slowly.

It was a lady, old but elegant.Her red hair mixed with white hangs on the shoulders of a black dress, and her tall figure has not changed with age.

Meeting Rosalin's eyes, the other party raised a faint smile.

"Look at you, what do you look like?"

The lady laughed and blamed, "Poirot has turned my little girl into a wild girl!"

In an instant, Rosalin's green eyes burst into a bright light.

"Grandma!" she called out.