Eleanor confirms for her currently insane daughter that Serena, Poppy and the rest have already confirmed their presence at the show, which she hopes will cause Marc Jacobs himself to engage in the admittedly dubious practice of consuming "grunge corduroys" of his own design. That would be unexpected! Eleanor continues, obliviously -- or passive-aggressively -- to wax on the many sterling and noble qualities of Jenny Humphrey, until Blair is able to discern a mistruth or misconception among the other lies: "A tenth grader with an independent study?" She barely enjoys the thought of what she must do next, exposing Jenny for the fraudulent and uneducated seamstress that she seems determined to become, and tosses Jenny what amounts to a fair declaration of war as they pass in the entryway: "You never learn, do you? Great job ruining my seating chart." Jenny swears that she didn't know, but of course this has no effect on the reality of the situation, which is that Jenny is toooooast. Watching in suspense as the Eternal Footman comes nearer and nearer Jenny Humphrey is more of a delight each time the bell tolls for her, is it not? Luckily, as a Humphrey and a moron in her own right, she will never run out of ways to fuck herself over. And for this we are more than grateful.
Charles watches Daniel's every movement through heavy-lidded eyes as they seat themselves at a table in the center of a dark, plush drinking establishment. A literal silver platter arrives containing five shots of premium liquor, and Charles watches Daniel discuss its appearance with himself at great length, in the style of a camouflaged carnivore holding very still. Finally, tired of the prattle and beginning to rethink whatever devilish plan he has in store, Charles slides the small glasses across the table, "-- Shut up, Humphrey." Daniel politely takes one glass from the platter, but Charles pushes it at him again, insistently. "You're either in for the full ride or you're out," says Charles, the tension thicker than Lord Marcus's head. "What's it going to be?" Daniel agrees, fervently whispering "full ride full ride full ride" under his breath as he agrees to take as many shots as Charles commands. "The liquor's just a chaser." Charles holds out his palm, on which perch like two small blue revolutionary thoughts: the keys to a new realm of exploration. Daniel inquires into their nature, and Charles responds quietly, "Does it matter? Go down the rabbit hole or go out the door." In the time it takes to snatch unthinkingly and then gobble the pill, washing it down with a third shot, Daniel has done so.