That morning she was convinced she would be interning for Indra Nooyi by week's end. By lunch, she was interning for Eleanor Waldorf Designs, still with Nooyi in her sights. Her scheme was unraveling by late afternoon, when she was dressed down and fired by her mother at the Thorpe party.
The only person having a worse day is Humphrey, who missed an internship interview and a meet and greet because of Serena. Always for Serena. Had she not warned him? She found him shortly after his stand-off with Serena, disappointed and out of sorts. But then he did the strangest thing. In the middle of an exchange of their typically acidic traded barbs, he sensed she was troubled, asked her what was wrong, and listened to her problem. She was loathe to admit how much he had helped, that she would never have been able to resolve her issues with her mom that night if he had not offered his honest assessment of her abilities and interests. Evil Dictator of Taste, indeed.
So later that night, when he comes downstairs from Serena's room, it is only fair that she show a little kindness, albeit disguised in her honey-coated venom. (One must maintain appearances and she knows no other way around him. It would be like learning to breathe a new way.) He is melancholy, open, and earnest. How very Humphrey. (For once, she does not seem to mind.) The Serena-Dan reunion is over before it even begins. She can put her fears to rest, he tells her; she will not be seeing him around.
The news is unexpected, even taking into account their difference of opinion and Serena's cavalier behavior. They always find their way back to each other.
She is not sure why she asks if he is headed home. His plan to see M. Hulot's Holiday takes her by surprise, how else to explain what happens next: asking Dan Humphrey if she might accompany him. She gives him an out, which he does not take, and he waits for her while she changes out of her ball gown for something more appropriate for the Walter Reed.
The panic and nerves are unexpected. What does one wear when sort-of accompanying, but certainly not on a date, a hipster boy from Brooklyn to a silent, French, black and white comedy? It cannot look too thought-out, but she cannot deny her basic fashion sensibilities either. Clearly, even he has noticed (not that he takes her advice). Green plaid skirt, cream blouse with green accents on the collar and cuffs, heels (not too high), and green coat and scarf worn earlier today should suffice.
She starts to knock on Serena's door to share her plans but stops...convinces herself that S is probably asleep. Waking her would be selfish, right? Immediately, she tamps down any doubt that there is any other reason not to tell Serena that she just invited herself to accompany the love of her best friend's life to the midnight showing of an obscure French film.
He helps her on with her coat, does his best to ignore her cocked eyebrow. Before she can call down for a cab, he tells her he has done that. He does not flinch when she makes him walk outside first to scope out any witnesses to them sharing said cab. He proves to be more knowledgeable about French film than she expected, and they have a lively discussion of Chaplin v. Keaton v. Tati, on the ride to the theater.
To expedite entry and ease her "Spotted!" fears, he volunteers to go pick-up the tickets. She lets him pay, declines any snacks, and goes to find a seat. When he locates her in the all but empty theater (sitting pretty much where he would have picked, two-thirds of the way back, center of the row), he sits the requisite two seats down from her. Once the lights are down, it is she that moves to close the gap. He smiles knowingly and hands her a bottle of water and a box of Milk Duds without comment. She whispers, "Shut up, Humphrey!" anyway, and wonders if he remembered her eating Milk Duds at "Nenette." They swap snacks twenty minutes into the movie, Dan finishing her Milk Duds while she maintains control of the popcorn for the duration of the movie.
Because of the late hour, he insists on riding back with her to her building. She absolutely refuses to let him walk her to the door, but notices the cab does not pull off until she is inside the lobby.
The light is blinking on her phone when she lays down to go to bed. "'Persona' playing at Film Forum Thursday night."
Her response, "Humphrey, you will owe me $10 bucks if you speak before Liv Ullman."