Some totally hot old Silver Fox type approaches Eleanor and gazes longingly at her, asking for directions to the skating rink, for his -- he takes pains to point out -- niece-child. Eleanor's like, "Fuckin'...it's right over there, idiot!" She doesn't know too much about flirting, see, because she just got divorced a month ago, and most of the flirting she did before then was with her gay husband, in lieu of having actual sex. Dude admits that the "throng of children in mittens" should have tipped him off, and then lingers for a long time like he's waiting for a tip. Eleanor stares at him like he's stupid or blind or something, and he finally peels off and walks away, casting yearning glances back over his shoulder. Maybe he's just wondering why she's dressed like a holiday float. Roman points out that the handsome man was flirting with her, and she pronounces this "absurd," but he totally, obviously was. And Eleanor is a very pretty woman, she has expressive eyes and a lovely mouth, and the fact that she's minorly crazy, well, when you're getting up there like old Silver Fox, maybe you're willing to let that slide. Roman thinks to himself, "[Something sneaky and romantic that will get Eleanor off my back, in French.]"

Eleanor notes, at the rink, that it's going to be awfully dull for Roman to just sit and watch the father-daughter skate; B recommends going to the petting zoo and feeding the sheep. Roman asks if perhaps he couldn't just join them, crashing one more imaginary Blair party, and Harold and Blair -- with differing degrees of enthusiasm -- agree that this is a great idea. Harold runs off to get him some skates, and Blair does the super-WASP Slow Burn for about the sixth time this outing. Her sneakiness and worriedness are at about a 50/50, with top notes of insane jealousy, which anyone in experienced in Blairology can tell you is the Perfect Storm. I hope Roman lives. Serena did, but just barely. Just Blair-Bearly.

Vanessa is managing, for once, to work her insane outfit: a purple shirt under a leopard kimono-shrug. It's so very Vanessa but she looks great. Dan's got a pile of New Yorkers near his open laptop in what would seem to be the only coffee shop in New York. Just tell me where Vanessa works, and I will get my coffee elsewhere; it's not that complicated. Serena approaches and wonders if he's autographing the magazines and selling them on eBay, because he's so poor, and he stutters through the explanation that he's looking at previous people who've been published in the magazine and generally working himself up to a coffeeshop literary masturbatory frenzy. As one does. Dan complains to Vanessa that he can't possibly top her gift until he rigs an Oscar for one of her documentaries. (Oh yeah, she's also incredibly talented in the books, just like the rest of them. She will go ahead and film a black-and-white 30-minute film about pigeons eating condoms, and invariably some mogul will be like, "Kid, you got moxie." It's actually fairly hilarious, like, Serena goes from book to book being a muse for all kinds of people, and Blair too -- fashion, rock stars, parfumeries -- but then, in the topsy-turvy world of the books, Dan and Vanessa, the artsy sucky ones, have to be contented with national publication and movie deals.) "You got in on your own merit," Vanessa says. I like her in this episode, actually. "The only gift I gave you was to lick a stamp, and as for me, the annual Dan Humphrey Christmas CD Mix is more than enough." So sad, so true, so Vanessa and Dan. He's pretty adorable agreeing that his Xmas Mixes are truly the bomb, and that Vanessa has very low expectations from life.