And not exactly a four-star review of a person either, if you see my point: in this case, Rufus and Lily can both go straight to hell. Not because of the flirty/adultery thing, not because of Chuck, or them pulling Allison and Bart (or even their kids) into their forty-year debacle of an affair, but because what they are doing wouldn't be okay if it were other adults, much less their own children, being forced to carry this weight and be the deciders for a thing of which they're still not aware, or forced into changing their own lives and patterns so that Rufus and Lily can try for the umpteenth time to ignore the million and one reasons they should never, ever be together.
Nate and Blair hustle Chuck into the Palace suites with Chopin in the air; the wake is in full swing. They cluck over him, lovingly, begging for a response longer than a few syllables, and hope for the best. "You don't have to stay that long," Nate murmurs, "Just let people shake your hand, say hello, you're done." Blair, happy to see him acquiesce, admits to worrying he wouldn't want to be there after the scene at the church; "This is exactly where I want to be," he replies menacingly, "I have business to attend to." Not exactly comforting, but close enough to normal Chuck. "Okay, that's fine, but let's just find you a quiet corner, get some food in your stomach," she clucks, and he breaks away from them, running up the stairs slowly, at a tilt as CeCe watches: "I'm not in the mood for food." We're always feeding each other. This is love.
"You're really sweet with him," Nate says; he always liked her best with Chuck, the notes he brings to the surface, the softness in her eyes for him. "Me?" she scoffs. "Sweet? Nooo." She's tied in knots with it, for a moment: to admit her feelings for Chuck on any day would be a sin, but for anyone, for Nate, to see her worrying about him more than she should? "No, you are. I mean, worrying about him, offering him food. It's downright maternal." Even a broken clock is right twice a day, and besides being my very favorite guy on this show, Nate is additionally not a broken clock.
"I'm not maternal, I've just been spending too much time with Cyrus and I'm turning Jewish." It's a Cyrus thing, then. A food thing, an ethnic thing. He's a feeder; can't be helped. Certainly not her responsibility. She needs a father as much as Chuck needs Lily. "Come on, I see kugel," she says, and for the first time in history Blair Waldorf drags someone to the buffet. Can you see them yet? The way the stars are lining up? The way she opens herself up to love, to acceptance, to the possibility of a Serena life? Serena, who never has to watch herself because it always works out; who doesn't mainline self-control until she's contracted to a single point, like a black hole? Joyful, unhurried, unworried, able to feel and to nurture and to care without wondering how she'll pay later? That is Cyrus's gift to her: Not enough.