Harold comes running into the House of Waldorf, shouting his Blair-Bears and accolades to Blair-Bear's wondrous beauty. He then reveals...Roman! Blair goes into her usual Disappointed WASP routine: sadness, excitement, Firestarter amounts of rage in reps of three, taking occasional breaks to faire la moue. Huge awkward hug and a fake smile, and then Roman drops some wildly French farce bullshit like a bomb in the sudden brittle silence: "You are still perfection. Delicate, yet full with flavor, like a macaron." Proving once again that her breeding far outstrips our own, Blair manages not to run shrieking from that little speech. Eleanor shares an elaborate WTF with her daughter before choking out a tittered "Imagine my surprise when the elevator door opened and out popped both of them!" Harold suggests that this is the perfect opportunity for Blair to get to know Roman better, and she responds by giving him his giant candy cane, and only a painful moment later offering the other to Roman. You'd have to know Blair pretty well to grasp where her eyes have just suggested he shove it. Roman is pleased as punch, Harold is touched, and Eleanor and Blair just stare at each other like reluctant tricoteuses.
Rufus is rocking a shorter haircut, kind of dorky-cute, which manages to take years off while simultaneously turning him into a fair approximation of a model citizen. He and his wife exclaim loudly at their son's sudden writerly success, and Jenny -- whose dialogue elves have once again fallen down on the job this week, after a promising beginning -- notes that now that he's got his publication and his dream girl, he might as well just die now. I won't disagree, but I don't exactly think he's peaked. Dan, in a bit of plot frommage, then begins picking up Christmas cards at random and reading them aloud, for no reason. He only gets through one (from "The Smiths," inspiring such a flaccid bit of "humor" from his wooden sister that I won't dignify it with reproduction), gets about halfway through a letter from Alexander Bancroft, the Hudson Wife-Fucker, before realizing what he's holding, and going cold all over. "Alison, meet me on the 24th..." Firstly, who reads that fast without comprehending what they're reading? People that can barely read. Secondly, where did A.B. send that letter from, 1782? Who commits anything, much less extracurricular courtly fuckery, to paper? I know I have some stationary around here someplace, and I could probably rustle up a stamp, but certainly not for something I wouldn't trust to email. If I were additionally a whore in need of such things, which I am not. Rufus takes Alison six centimeters to the left for a laughably dramatic "aside," prompting Dan to remind his dipshit drama queen parents that they live in a one-room loft in DUMBO and thus can hear everything that their stupid asses are saying. Man, for one brief second that hurts me in the feminism, I wish this were 1782. Back when women and not Nate were chattel, you could do some fucked up things to Alison for this. I still have nightmares about the mysterious cupping torture in Dangerous Liaisons, but if it were Alison, I just call that Hilarious Christmas. Over Jenny's satisfyingly sad, crestfallen disappointment, Alison assures Rufus that it is over with Bancroft, and thus they are finally -- for about the fifth week running -- ready to just be a family. Rufus is like, "Humphreys, we are not going to let your mother's whoredom ruin Christmas." Even Christmas itself is like, "Nice try."