Sabrina: "Since you know all about me now, having somehow never heard of me before -- despite being a rich person who lives in Manhattan and throws gala events and the million other reasons you would obviously know who I am -- I thought I should show you where I didn't really grow up. It is called PRADA MARFA and it was built on the backs of many, many ex-husbands. I have no idea who lives here now. But they have a shitload of unopened mail."
Steven Whatever: "That's so funny that I managed to not know who you are, despite living just across the Park."
Sabrina: "Wait, the Upper West Side is real? I thought that was just a scary story from the Old Country that Vanya used to tell us when we were going out to do drugs and have orgies and kill guys."
Chuck: "Amira! Sorry for leaving you out of this episode. Or involving you in this episode, really. Your presence so far makes little sense, to be honest. You're like Ivy in that respect, or the sad decrepit remains of the once-great Georgina Sparks."
Amira flips open a suitcase with ten million dollars in it.
Chuck: "What is going on here?"
Amira: "What is going on here is that your dad gave me this money for no reason."
Chuck: "Really? No reason at all?"
Amira: "Yeah! So I'm going to stick around for a while and see what else you crazy monkeyfucks will get up to. This is more fun than my real life as a globetrotting translator for the rich and powerful. Who wants to see the world when I can stare at that one spot on your wall all day long every day, and hope I'm not here when Bart Bass burns this entire building down."
Chuck: "Cool, because I have no friends. I'm a loner, Amira. A rebel. A Chuck Bass."
Dan: "Thanks for walking me to my door, Georgina. You didn't have to do that."
Georgina: "I know, right? Literally. There was no narrative reason whatsoever for me to do that."
Dan: "Well, say hi to our baby."
Georgina: "I will, if I see him."
Rufus, fucking Cousin Peepers. Just goin' to town, at some terrifying Nicolas Roeg angle that makes no sense in terms of physics but in and of itself makes total sense, because it's exactly as mind-bending as it feels. Dreams in the Witch House, man. Cats lying down with dogs. Rufii lying down with Ivii. Class distinctions tossed off with a ne'er you mind, money no longer a factor, age only a number. Those once-supple Frankenstein golem lips comin' at you, again and again. Her giant eyeballs rollin' around. Rufus with a plate of waffles perched on his dad-belly, humming happily to himself and dripping butter on the sheets. Choker necklace knocking you in the teeth, snaggin' nostril on the way down. Damaged cartilage in his left knee forcing an audible.