Coming out of the dorms at a hasty speed, Nate is furious at being cockblocked, but Dan's more interested in being snotty: When Nate complains that she went from being on his jock to throwing a book at his head, Dan's only response is, "Yeah, Faulkner. It looked like a first edition, not that you'd know." What a horrible fucking boy. Nate can't understand why Dan was so intent on screwing up his Freshman First, but Dan's more concerned with Nate's preference for screwing up his "last chance at making a connection in the Lit department" for "pseudonymous sex." Nicely done. He's all about how his future is not a joke, but he just keeps bitching even as Nate tries to explain about the Captain: "Look Nate, I'm sure that your life is complicated, with your family and, um, I don't know, girls, but you can't pretend to be me." Nate takes off, because he's boring, but of course Dan has to go to the poverty place immediately. "Maybe it's okay to use people like that in your world, but it's not in mine." UGH! Yeah, the whole Upper East Side exists only to torment you. "Do you ever get tired of carrying around that chip on your shoulder, Dan? No wonder Serena dumped you." And no matter how cute Dan looks in his brown suit, that is awesome.

Blair surprises Secretary Shirley with a scary face and force of will. "I would like an invitation to the private reception at the Dean's house tonight, and you're going to get me one." Shirley apologizes, citing her distance from the Dean's private affairs, but B's not having it. "Interviews are so stressful for you students..." Shirley equivocates, but Blair tells her to check her email: there's an auction listing of some kind of random kitty figurines. "Eighteenth century. Do you know how rare a pair is from that era? I had someone at Christie's put them on hold, just in case." Shirley immediately hands over the address and they lock eyes, conspiratorial and creepy. "Poor S. She should know B's rules by now: when someone leaves you off the list, don't get mad! Get in." Blair thanks her, and leaves with the info.

I won't let you bury it/ I won't let you smother it/ I won't let you murder it
Our time is running out

At the atelier, Rufus admits he's impressed, both by the general respect she's earned and her own very professional behavior, but Little J's not even mid-ankle dip when he rules in favor of Constance Billard. She stutters sadly for a second before giving in, and with a broken spirit and poor posture, asks her father to take her on one last errand before her dreams go down for their final dirt nap.