Dan brings this information back to Rufus, who is still in kitchen where he lives now, and he's like, "It was just like in All The President's Men! I'm thinking there's no way this could be legit, but all of the facts check out! The date, the building, the fire! The insurance." Rufus is like, if I could get out of this kitchen I would totally sing you a song about how I'm judging you so bad, because if you exposé Bart's arsoning ways then you expose Serena and Chuck to all kinds of trouble but more importantly, Dan, if you harm one hair on the head of Eric or Lily van der Woodsen-Bass, I will come into that kitchen and beat you both senseless before going on a Brooklyn-destroying crack fueled Vanessa hunt. So anyway, Rufus is right but as usual he's going about making that point in such a douchebaggy wussy sensitive '90s way that you just automatically want to do the bad thing just to make him cry.
And then because the douche quotient isn't high enough in this magical oubliette of a kitchen, Dan whines, "Daaad, I'm writing an important stoooory for a quality publicaaaaation, why can't you just admit this is a good thiiiiiing for me?" Rufus stares at him and thinks what we're all thinking, but Dan is just past the safe line, on the other side of the kitchen island, and so he can't punch his son in the face. Then -- right then! -- Alison calls to say that stupid Jenny has, true to form, asked her to sign the papers incorporating her as a high school dropout before she's even learned to read or how to stop somebody from slowly lighting everything you own on fire while explaining step by step what they're doing and double checking to make sure you really get it. Rufus is like, "I'll point my finger at you later young man, right now I have to figure out how to get my daughter to quit trying to make her dreams come true. Without leaving this kitchen."
Blair sits down to lunch with Cyrus and lobs a couple of serves, but they're lead, and Cyrus keeps saying shit like how Eleanor is "a diamond in an ocean of coal." Yeahthat Eleanor Waldorf really is a diamond: tacky, and covered in the blood of innocents! Finally B gets bored and asks about his ex-wife, pushing a little harder, and Cyrus caves, and then tells her the most ridiculous fucking story in the history of linear narrative.
Alice and I were very young when we got married. We were very fond of each, other but never passionate. And then I got drafted, I was sent to Vietnam. And I fell deeply in love with a Vietnamese girl named Kim-Ly. It means "Golden Lion." I knew I could never stay married to Alice if I could feel a passion like that for somebody else. And I planned to bring Kim-Ly back to America, but first I had to go back by myself and end my marriage.