B and S head to the Bass kitchen in the adorable PJs, as Blair's thanking Serena for talking her out of her royalty mean reds, they bump into Chuck, who asks for a moment with Blair. Serena, adorably, ganks Chuck's OJ out of his hands and wanders off mumbling to herself. Chuck asks if B enjoyed meeting the Duchess, and is thrown by the total victory implicit in her reply. "I know. Your plan to ruin me totally backfired. Turns out Marcus' mommy is even sicker than you are." Chuck, hilariously, replies to this with real terror: "You got along great." And it's true, the idea of the D and B joining forces would make anybody crap their pants. "I think she recognized a part of herself in me. Or rather, I recognized someone in her." Blair blows off his confusion, saying the important thing is that he lost, but should take comfort in the fact that it was a solid effort. He swears that tomorrow's another day, and she wishes him a joyful goodnight, smiling over her shoulder. I love this so much, I love them together. I love that the conversation they just had went, "I am openly trying to destroy your relationship because I am in love with you and/or need to dominate you" and her reply is, "Not today, but someday maybe, because I am in love with you and/or need to dominate you."
I went on and on last week, but I mean: all of television could be seen as a complex equation trying to solve for X, X being how you keep the rootability of a relationship and satisfy the audience, while simultaneously not ending the story right there. (And thus, X being how you -- the person watching TV -- can possibly be satisfied with anything, ever.) Tragedies end in death, comedies end in marriage, but TV shows don't end, so what do you do? This. This right here, while also using it as a metaphor for the very real fear of betrayal that love, as an act of trust, always already implies. They could go on like this forever, and I don't think it would ever feel less than fresh, because having two narcissists so completely in control of their environments that everybody else is terrified of them and their methods, while always teasing the idea of either or both of them giving in, is the perfect metaphor for love: you know it's love when you start talking like an assassin/you know it's love when the burlesque ends and you keep dancing. And by the same Cruel Intentions/Dangerous Liaisons token, any happy ending is just a temporary resting place before one or the other one yanks the rug out from under the other one again, you know? You wouldn't be shocked if one of them gave in, just laid it down like a tamed shrew, and the other one was like, "Oops, I did it again!" And boom: new cycle of the story, without any waiting or dead air, because you know you can't trust these bitches. It's so fantastic.