I hope Eric slaps her silly. I really do. It's not charitable, but what, you're going to fuck up the Skittles Jenny Humphrey's got rattling around in there? So Jenny's like, "Word, Dad. Thanks for telling me the stupidest possible thing I can do, which is call up a perfectly sensible person, whose life I very carefully and deliberately shit on -- immediately after he admitted having just been released from the booby hatch for a suicide attempt -- and then, without even a token attempt at reconciliation, I will ask him for a favor which benefits only me. And father, I will do this thing. I will do it because I am a fool, and because I am a jerk, but most of all: because I am a Humphrey."
J. Mac's writing -- actually writing words, Dan, on a piece of paper, which is how you know he's a writer -- at a bar when Dan comes wandering in, I guess on the off chance reality will maybe agree that his made-up internal drama is more important than responsibility for his commitments. I think not. The bartender tells him to get lost: this bar is only reserved for what Dan will one day become, not Dan as he is, and if the bar can wait until that day, so can Dan. "It's all right, Joe. He's with me." He is not, nor has he ever been. Dan apologizes for showing late, and J. Mac says he wouldn't be, if he'd shown on time. "Something tells me you're here empty-handed?" Dan swears he only needs one more day -- as though, Jay immediately points out, the last sixty days weren't enough. He informs him that he is not sitting down, because he is not serious about writing, because excuses are for the unemployed, of which Dan is now one, because why should Jay bother shepherding the serious amounts of Dan bullshit that comes with being his literary legend mentor when he could just say fuck it and get drunk right now, and Dan's all, "But I looooove you," and Jay says that if Dan loved him he wouldn't suck so bad and if he was a real writer he would fucking write and also get his ass gone, so Dan does. Oh, Dangerous Dan! Your dreams are deader than a show horse murdered for the insurance money. It's enough to make you fuck John Edwards, it really is.
Eric's a bit taller and brunette on a beach when his phone rings. He looks at the name, thinks about it for a second, and answers: "If it's apology time, you're about three months late... And let me guess, you want something." Then, instead of hanging up, he listens to Jenny blather on -- doing a really good Dan Humphrey impression, come to think of it -- about how she's a bitch and she knows it, but he might be interested to know that she felt really bad about it, like, all summer. (Silence.) "You were the only person that was friends with me for me, and I hurt you the worst." Eric points out that: Jenny was fucked over by her lies worse than anybody, especially Eric, because his superpower is not getting hurt by lies because he's the only honest person on the entire Upper East Side, and additionally he has no friends, for the exact same reason. So what does her scheming ass want, besides to be friends because they have no other friends, plus apparently the same taste in dudes? "Well, do you happen to be in the Hamptons right now?"