Vanessa asks a girl at the bursar if Scott Adler is taking Comp Theory, but the girl is wearing more necklaces than she is, and thus doesn't have to tell her. "When faced with an uncertain future, the questions we truly hate to ask are the ones we fear we already know the answer to," GG notes. Well, then, Vanessa asks if she can just find out if he even goes to NYU. The girl rolls her eyes in a sisterly manner: "My last boyfriend told me his dad invented the battery." Heh. Turns out that there's no Scott Adler at the school. Vanessa bershons her ass out of there, because that's the limit of her stalking abilities.

"Are you going to tell your mother you were here?"

"I don't think so."

"I -- I wonder how she feels about this room."

"I don't know. She never speaks of it."

"Oh. ...How old was he?"

"He was twelve."

"You must have been pretty young yourself."

B's important breakfast meeting is, of course, Chuck. She's wearing a cute trench dress and comes accompanied by some kind of a chef. "I recommend the hot apple cider caramel," she says, and he smiles at her in that delighted way he's perfected this season: "On what?" She drops the trench to reveal a gorgeous sheer chemise and boyshorts. Note that she still looks amazing: Romantic Bright Star bun low on the neck, tendrils, the whole thing: "Surprise me." He notes that she is awesome, and he kisses her -- she curls into his lap in her little outfit like a dream secretary, and he fiddles with his necktie as usual when he says the word meeting: "I have a really big meeting in a few hours." B laughs and points out that means they have hours, and he gestures to his dick: "I have to keep my focus."

"It's with Sean MacPherson. I'm only gonna get one shot with him." (Famous, real person.) Blair points out that this means she's not a one-shot, but "some endless font of do-overs," which thank God for it, and she bounces. He asks her where she's going to go, and the thin veneer of not-crazy she's been rocking this week quickly crumbles: "No idea. I officially have nowhere left to go. My roommate is a nympho with a sock-fetish, I have no friends at school, and now my boyfriend would rather obsess about a restaurateur than spend quality time with me... And hasn't, by the way, in five days!" She slams the door, and he focuses or whatever.