"Why would I want to be friends with somebody who blackmails me? Who outs my little brother at the dinner table?" Georgina admits that was an honest mistake: "I would never hurt him." That's how far down it goes, she's asking: Can you believe that there are things I won't do? Will you tell me that there are lines I won't cross? Will you tell me I'm capable of getting better, of knitting myself back together?

No.

"No. I don't believe you. I don't believe you about Eric, about anything."

Okay, then. It's like a switch that flips: okay, fine. There are lines I'll cross. Fucking watch me. Maybe you we're right all along, and the feeling I have, that I'm unfixable, maybe that's right too. But you're my last shot, and no matter how I try to get you under control, to get you to burn with me, you just make it hurt more. So you want to be good and you want to be right? I'll show you how fucking right you are.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I did it on purpose." She laughs, fakely, like a little girl trying to convince you she's a witch. "Because I can. Because I know things about you, about your family, about your boyfriend..." She leans in close, letting the fever burn: "...And I know them before you do." It feels good. "Oh, look! Cab." She hails the taxi for Serena, and looks at her through hooded eyes, on fire: "You get home safe."

And Serena stares, afraid and trapped, as Sarah runs off back toward her new best friends.

"Another way the truth comes out? When you don't even mean it to."

Rufus notes Dan's Scrabble words: angry, change (possibly chains or even chained), trust, and girl. Oh, Dan. "Something you wanna talk about?" Not really: "Who'da thought Scrabble could be so therapeutic? That last one was a triple word score..." The loft door opens, and the boys look up.

"...Or when, without saying a word, it's still loud and clear."