Rufus and Lily, they would like the empty kitchen to know, are having the sex. And tonight, they will be having the charity gala at the opera. Rufus is trepidatious about it, because it is going to suck, and because he's so sweetly Brooklyn earnest that he thinks people who go to these things actually enjoy them. Whenever I think about this, like how the Goonies called money "rich people stuff," I always think about how it's like, "What happens when I marry the millionaire, actually?" and the best thing Kit De Luca can come up with is, you buy some horses and like a diamond. So whatever, they make out some more, and Eric comes stalking in and hisses, "I would say get a room, but yours is right above mine. Please try to remember that." They laugh and kiss and are secretly horrified. I like any old Eric, of course, but "bitchy opera queer" Eric is a whole new thing. It's sort of thrilling, but also kind of boring. Regular Eric is good too.
Chuck's ordering mysterious under-18s, imported: "I want them young and unstable." Scary, like how if you never know what the monster looks like it's twice as scary as if you did know. Jack laughs and says to cancel the order ("I already ate," he says, which is also mysteriously chilling), and they talk about how Chuck's been doing childish things to get him fired, like "having the freshman class of Brearley hold their annual sleepover" in his hotel room. They discuss how Jack's transition to leader might involve a dip in Bass stock, and Chuck tells him to go to hell, and they bitch at each other for awhile, and let us know they'll both be at the opera. Because what if every single character on this show were not somehow in attendance at the big Fourth Act event, no matter how twisted the narrative explanation, and the world therefore ended? Best to eliminate that suspense right up front: they're going to be at the opera. And in the spirit of this kindness: every single character on the show, just like the last 34 episodes of this show, is also going to be there.
Dan observes the new Shakespeare teacher, Miss Rachel Carr, who is child-tiny and he thinks may have "Benjamin Button Syndrome," but turns it around immediately when she uses her first line of dialogue to talk shit -- in front of Serena -- about how shitty and self-absorbed and entitled Upper East Siders are. Dan's like, "Girl, I hear you. Don't they all just suck shit?" Serena's more than happy to introduce Dan to Miss Carr, her "favorite new teacher." Dan tells Miss Carr that she looks like Benjamin Button, and she's like, "I'm even worse than you think. Have you ever heard of something called Teach For America? I've never even been to New York before. It's a lot different than Des Moines. Don't you just feel this quiet sense of the innate goodness of people? I'm thinking of starting a book club with homeless people!" Serena, whose family as of five minutes ago is "in the hotel business," tells Miss Carr to come chill in the Palace lobby, and Dan offers the chill-out use of the Bedford Gallery Café & Spazzerie. Miss Carr goes, "Brooklyn. That's, uh, the place across the bridge, right?" Dan laughs disproportionately at this, and they say goodbye, and Serena just loves Miss Carr so much, and you realize Dan is totally going to fuck her in about a minute.