Alone, the Humphrey Men immediately drop the half-assed act of understanding what she's talking about and reconfirm with each other that female human beings, with their primitive rituals, are nonsensical and beyond understanding, so why try? As long as they don't have those damned "thoughts" or "feelings" while they're giving you the blowjobs you hope someday to receive, let 'em do whatever they want!
Nelly Yuki is in charge of the binders; the rest of the Plastics surround them with mean, hungry faces, staring down. Blair's sitting in the spotlight on the steps, going through the files one by one while the juniors stare up at her in stark terror. "Melissa Murphy, junior. Let's see here. AP scores good... decent charity work... Young Women of the American Ballet Theater... season passes to the Knicks?" Melissa's dad is the team doctor, good, but she summers in... "The Adirondacks?" Blair shudders and makes a face, and even the Plastics are struck by the sudden chill in the air. "We'll be in touch." Blair is wearing a cape, with a little black velvet twist at the throat, and looks more than ever like the headmistress of a shady Home for Victorian Waifs where they beat you with sticks for taking off your clothes to bathe, and sell you to a fat man when you turn fifteen. Tell me you don't think that's an ideal job for Blair Waldorf.
Eric and Chuck arrive, discussing how Chuck's using Blair's system to screen his dates. (With I'm guessing a few modifications, given the fact that Chuck is blind to the fact that "Projects" and "Victims" are two separate categories and not just one big pile.) "Think of it as an early application process. So many slots on the Chuck Bass social calendar, it'll save me a ton of time." At least I think he said "slots." Eric remarks that this all seems a bit "impersonal," which Chuck takes as a compliment.