(So awesome in so many ways, firstly because Tinsley and Topper Mortimer are unironic monster obsessions of mine, secondly because B's drawing a trap around Dan that he only half-recognizes as yet, and third because I have a reason to link to this, and hopefully spread my intense love for Richard Lawson to all of you, my friends.)
Dan agrees, so far, so B pushes it: "Asher's just using your sister as a cover. It's your brotherly duty to save her from becoming the next Katie Holmes!" Dan's like, "Because you love Jenny so much?" And she shakes her head gorgeously: "Motive is irrelevant, as long as our endgame is the same." The only thing stronger than Dan's inability to understand Blair's rules is Blair's inability to understand why everybody won't play along with them: "No. Blair, this is not a game to me, okay? I don't want her to get hurt." Which cat, B points out, is out of the Spade at this point, because he's already managed to tell the whole of Manhattan that his sister's "a glorified hag." Of course, because nobody in the history of creation has ever directly confronted Dan about his infinite hypocrisy, he freaks out and grabs his rucksack and jacket, all, "You know what? I... You're on your own," and heads off to repent or pray or burn books or something. "I'm done." And B just smiles sweetly, still a bit confused as to his actual issue here: "Suit yourself!"
Lily, still perseverating on the biggest of her fantasies, has dragged her "friend" Rufus to a bridal shop so she can try on dresses. Lily, girl, you kill me. From behind the curtains, she can't quite believe her perfectly shaped ears: "Really, Rufus, what were you thinking? You threw her a surprise birthday party and had her face painted on a cake with a tiara?" Because that's how queer Rufus is, yes. He blushes and admits it seemed like a good idea at the time, and she points out that in the '90s, we said the same of flannel and acid-washed jeans, but they weren't too flattering either. Speaking of flattering apparel, the curtains whoosh open on Lily in a white wedding dress, looking fucking stunning. His jaw actually drops.
"What is it? Is it too much?" No response whatsoever. "Uh, not enough?" He can't tear his eyes off her, and his voice is soft. It's not the dress: "It's you in it."