Charles and Nathaniel -- in rust-colored pants and a plum fedora -- revisit on the green. Nate is bored of sitting in the grass absent-mindedly playing with Chuck's hair and wants to go do something, but Chuck assures him that one does not "find" the Skull & Bones studs, they come find you. And then things get naughty. Nate's down with that, but notices totally boring things they could be doing, like attending a game of "football," whatever that is, or touring the art gallery... And then he spots Jordan Steele (YES! THAT IS HER NAME!) wandering uselessly behind a group of persons she probably refers to as her friends. She has kind of a ... Degrassi look to her. I don't know if that puts the image in your head that it puts in mine, but trust that it is perfectly descriptive.
Nate's dork-dar being no less impressively calibrated than poor old Asher Hornsby's, he immediately recognizes Jordan as the kind of low-self-esteem TA that would sleep with even the most obvious of homosexuals in the hopes of climbing higher in the social register. He takes off after her, wishing she had a hot dog he could knock out of her hands, and Chuck's like, "He'll come back." Of course, the second he's alone the Skull & Bones hotties play out an Alias-worthy snatch-and-grab, one reclining against the wall, insouciant as Jimmy Dean while another rough and tumble lad comes around the corner, knocks into Chuck just hard enough that he's caught off-guard, and then they put a bag over his head. Of course, he reacts in no way beyond a slight wobble for balance, because a) this is porn happening right in front of you and he likes porn and b) all he had to do was show up. I didn't want to go to college when I was in high school, because nobody was kind enough to explain that these kinds of things happen so regularly, but I assure you that the bag-over-the-head abductions are as constant and enjoyable a part of the collegiate experience as shaving cream fights in the quad, embarrassing sexual fumbles (and bunts), or overemotional, Foucault-referencing fights about the communal cooking space.
Blair watches Berube's secretary Shirley dust her impressive array of kitten statuettes and figurines, and listens to the uproarious laughter coming from the Dean's office. "Oh, my," Shirley says to herself in the most Old British Lady way. "The Dean hasn't laughed like that in years..." Eventually the house of mirth spills out into the anteroom, and of course it's the spell of Serena van der Woodsen the Dean has found himself all enraptured by. "It was an utter delight to meet you, Miss van der Woodsen! What a lovely surprise!" Serena gives him one of her patented aww moues and grins at Blair: "And who doesn't like a surprise?" he wishes her well and she giggles affably, shooting Blair a challenging smile. "Looks like he's ready for you," she says, and the Dean invites her in. Serena's look is like, "Poor beastly thing. The rain! In Spain!" even as Blair's shooting death rays. "I've never been more prepared," Blair stammers, and heads inside; Serena's eyebrows wish her luck as she passes by.