"I'm not what... oh, no. oh, no, no, no, no. no, no. I'm not... No. I mean, Serena wants us to get along, but not like that. No, that would, uh... that would be ... sick," he finishes up, with another one of those hilarious line readings he's been giving us. It's partly the writing making Dan better, and the smart way it's doing it which is little by little, and partly the constant discussion of what a fuckwad he is, but I really think a lot of is Badgely (generally a well-regarded actor and human) actually letting himself like Dan more, because these extemp funny ad libby feeling asides of his are really a breath of fresh air. He did them last year but they seemed forced and Sethy, and this year they are really the best and most original and authentic signs of life on Planet Dan.
Rufus -- who hates B not only on sight like any good Brooklynite, but also because of the abuses daughter Jenny and daughter/whatever Vanessa are constantly begging for from the infinite well of Blair's rage -- asks Dan why he doesn't just tell Serena he's not into being friends with B. Dan says it's dicey because they're already on their eightieth round of trying to be friends, but is unable to cop to actually liking her, just like last year when he and B were friends for two seconds. Serena, or possibly one of her tormented breasts, says hello, and they all meet up as Rufus is taking off. Serena is excited about the turnout, gushing first over how Aaron must be thrilled and then amending the subject to Rufus. He notices the weirdness and thanks her, but turns immediately to Blair, who shouldn't be there: "So I thought you were gonna be with Chuck tonight, what happened?" Serena grins proudly "Oh, she is. But she told him to meet her here. She needed some moral support."
Blair -- brilliantly, unable to tolerate the terms of this conversation but simultaneously unable to take part in it because of what it's about -- pulls an Aaron Rose and takes part in the conversation by third-party proxy while simultaneously bitching at them for talking about her in front of her like some kind of invalid they're sharing caretaking for, which is exactly what she is, for tonight: "Yes. She is freaking out, she needs a drink." She turns a hilariously expectant smile at Dan, but don't miss what happened there: she just admitted the inadmissible, by putting herself outside the context of the story and sneaking up on it from an unexpected angle:
"There's a girl made of ice, in love with a beast. She's almost brave enough to ask for his love, and give hers in return. And then life can begin." It's not an Audrey movie, but something altogether scarier and darker. Like a fairytale. She's walking into the woods at night, the ice girl under the moon, with nothing in her hands. If she looks right at this, or what she's prepared to do -- if anybody looks at her tonight -- she will shatter into a million pieces. Until today she only had one friend in the whole world, and when that friend was gone she might as well have been dead. She walked on knives. Today she has two: Two friends, telling her of her bravery and how much she is loved and wanted. They carry her when she is weak.