Nate: "Ivy, look at these FLASHY new photos of people at the NUTRITIONAL Jenny Packham story and see if you can find any BARELY LEGAL people named Ivy."
Payne: "Who is this fucking child and why is she in our business office that still contains no staff of any kind? If you are not out of here before I count five, I will tear your face off and use it as an undergarment."
Ivy: "I was trying to help you, but I guess I'll leave now."
Nate: "Diana, this is Serena's MINDBLOWING cousin, Charlie Rhodes. She has THROBBING facial recognition skills."
Ivy: "It was really nice to meet and then be horribly mistreated by you, Diana Payne. I can see why you're such a successful whatever-the-fuck-you-are."
"Charlie, I just want to make you feel something. I've never felt closer to another man than I do right now, and I want to share that with you. I want to make you feel good. Like I feel, right now. But you." Charlie offered Dylan some scotch and checked the clock. Brothaniel would be home soon, and there was no way they could distract him with the dog twice.
"Dylan, it is really scathing to be here, getting the emotional handjob of the century from you, but I'm afraid I'm more of a physical personality. Less of this intellectual mumbo-jumbo, or you'll never get what you want." Dylan nodded, trembling. He knew he mustn't seem to eager, but he'd played out this scene a million times in his head before. He knew what came next.
"The way to some men's hearts is through music and movies and literature," Charlie continued, drawing his finger along the leather of his club chair. The scent of scotch and cigars was heavy in the air. "That's you, Hunter. Hipster associations and self-labeling. But for some of us it's a little more visceral. A little less..."
He paused, running his hand down the lapel of the tux he'd put on when they started drinking, around 2 PM. "A little less conversation, you might say. Stop whining." Dylan put his drink down with a quiet clink, and stood. Charlie nodded, with a smile. But he didn't move. Not quite yet.
"Don't leave me hanging, man," Dylan almost whispered.
"I'm rather enjoying it," Charlie said, with a grin. "Watching you squirm..."
Dan: "Thanks for letting me hang here, man."
Chuck: "I'm rather enjoying watching you squirm."