Ivva tries to make Chuck some croissants filled with something, I forget what, and he's like, "We have servants!" She wants to make the bed he says "No dice!" She wants to somehow earn her keep, because this storyline makes only slightly more sense than Chuck's usual storylines; finally they go teach FDR how to sing in his wheelchair and he's inspired to create the New Deal.
"Simone is waiting for you in the spa on the second floor," Chuck says, and leaves out the part where he's like, "She's bitchy because she's French, but you won't notice probably." And then, "Oh, the spa on the second floor isn't the one that you go to and never come back from, don't worry. It's just a regular spa like NYC ladies go to. Like my mom would have, if I hadn't killed her and then let her and my uncle manipulate me into selling him my girlfriend's vagina."
"Just tell Simone what you'd like to eat and she'll have it delivered before your massage. Or after. It's entirely up to you." This goes on for some time. "Or if you want it halfway through, you can say that. Or if you're not feeling like a massage, you can say that. If you want your muffin buttered you can butter it yourself or we can assign someone to butter your muffin." Ivva says something, we'll never know what, but it leaves Nate with the impression that Chuck somehow left out what a rapist he is. Nate also seems left with the impression that Chuck's name is "Henry."
Serena is put off by the Constance Billardness of Hamilton House, but of course B is like, "Everything should be like high school. Everything." Words you'll eat and then throw up discreetly later, my friend, because guess who's coming down the sweeping stairway like Norma Desmond, gun in hand? Good old Penelope! Her face has not lessened in amount of face since high school, so B should feel right at home. One word: Plastics.
Penelope makes fun of them for being has-beens, and B ripostes: "Clearly, standards have slipped if you're a member here. To whom should I speak to have you removed, once we get our keys?" Penelope points at portrait of her patrician great-aunt: "The wall?" Serena addresses the wall, having confused Hamilton House for Hogwarts once again. "Ah. Nepotism. That explains it. Now if you don't mind, would you direct us to the Keymaster and then get me some cashews?"
At first they think those two bitches that conned B into attending Columbia in the first place are the Keymasters, which B thinks is divine providence, but then Juliet rises from the depths of a tan-leather club chair like it's a fucking grave. S is nervous but B's excited because networking, like all social interaction, is something she's always thought she'd be good at.