Amazing! Blair's got her head in the game, finally, once again.
Blair: "And how long until she can determine the father of her child?"
Dorota: "Blair Cornelia Waldorf!"
Doctor: "Um, this appointment is over despite my not having examined you or provided any prenatal care. As I said, I am very reputable. Dorota, next time you come, you come alone. This chick is giving me agita."
Left alone, Blair reaches out and tweaks one of Dorota's sensitive nipples; the resulting scream can be heard in Queens. Not to be outdone, Dorota grabs her employer's left breast and holds on for dear life. It is quite a pickle. In the end, Dorota realizes that Blair is also pregnant, and the charade is exposed!
Dorota: "You pregnant too! We like sisters now!"
Dorota: "Distant cousins?"
In the end they embrace, careful to avoid one another's breasts. Blair misses Serena.
Per credits, Unsatisfied Hottie: "I'm so sick of all you guys on antidepressants!"
Like fabled Nimue, like Melissa Gorga, the Mysterious Lady Floorfucker has sapped Nate of his essential ingredients. He can no longer rise to the occasion. And without this vitality to provide, of what use is he? Perhaps Brothaniel Snarchibald will lose his qualities one by one, leaving only a colorless cloud of ephemera, a puddle of tea-weak bong-water. Perhaps the eyebrows will be the next to go, lofting skyward like the Lunesta butterfly.
And in a matching club chair, we see his other half, Charles Bass, insensate to la douleur as his brother is to le plaisir. Perhaps it has always been thus.
Chuck: "Do you need pharmaceutical assistance? Or assistance of ... any kind?"