Blair's putting on a cruddy-looking dress at her house. To be fair, it's a lovely color, but if these are the fruits of Eleanor Waldorf's fashion empire, I'm surprised she could even hook a gay dude in the first place. It's all flat drapes and prom-dress shelving and...I can't think of any other home-improvement metaphors to imply the Softer Side of Hell this dress came from, and…it's also not that bad. But I will say this, without exaggeration: if the first word that comes to mind when I see your dress is "sturdy"? "Craftsmanlike"? "Stalwart"? Anyway, the dress is a staunch character indeed, for being such a plot point. Blair whisks around the place with a thundercloud over her head about how Serena "better stay away"; Kati/Isabel giggle, "We love sleeping over at Blair's!" They then hope that she never gets this mad at them; it's clear from her eye-rolling and their even-vaguer-than-usual responses that they actually have no idea what Serena actually did, which makes sense because the fact of it costs Blair more face than Serena, so why would she tell anybody. But what's telling is that they...don't really wonder about it. Blair's mad, so they're...not mad exactly, but definitely on her team in an undefined way. Blair gets a creepy smile on her face and pulls out her phone to call Nate, like that's going to show Serena somehow. I think Blair vastly overestimates Serena's ability to consider other people in any way real, or anything more than interchangeable supporting characters in her own movie. Team Blair and all, but she's not really making sense right now.
Phone vibrating on a pile of poker chips, Nate awakes looking either hellish or totally hot, depending on if you like your boy dishabille in the ruins of a tux (yes) with about six tons of rouge and foundation on his face (no). Thank God the good hair from last week's re-shot prostitution scene stuck around! Blair is almost embarrassingly chipper on the phone, telling him to get some "strong coffee" and jump in the shower, and calling him "sleepyhead." (He is wearing more makeup than David Bowie in Jim Henson's 1986 film Labyrinth. A film, I stress, which made its cinematic debut the same year most of these actors were born. Guzzle that one down like a champagne brunch, why don't you.) Sleepyhead rings off and tosses the phone drearily, calling to Chuck, who's asleep a few feet away, in bed with some ladies. Chuck offers Nate some ass, and Nate declines, but does ask them to fetch him some water, and they ask if he wants ice in it, and that's when you realize they're hotel employees. We, in English, don't even have a word for whatever Chuck is. ["I read that sentence and said, out loud, '"Louche"? …Shit. "Roue"! …Shit!' Jacob is wise." -- Sars] Nate and the ladies have a laugh at Chuck's black eye, and Chuck admits that if he knew where Dan was, he would quote "kill him." "With what, your pussy-ass scarf?" asks Nate, albeit a bit more kindly, and Chuck whines that his stupid pussy-ass scarf is his signature piece. It's ugly as hell, and not even in a cool gay way, so there you go: just like his Snagglepuss soul. "Better a broken nose than a broken heart," Chuck says, doing something mysterious to his smoothie. It's like an eyedropper of something. Probably wheatgrass or something, but it's a testament to the oogly-boogliness of Chuck, and this scene, that I was like: "Heroin? Speed? Artificial testosterone?" It would explain some things. My notes say, "I don't get it, so that must be rich stuff. Gossip Girl, what is that stuff? Drugs?" It's not that I'm unclassy, rape jokes aside -- more that I would never make my own smoothies. Nate's like, "Broken heart what? I didn't say anything about Serena." And Chuck's like: "Neither did I. Ha! Ya burnt!" Well, he keeps smoothing and smiles sagely, but that's totally what he was thinking. In the language of flowers, hemp means "fate," and that's Chuck: he never lies, and he's never wrong.