"Are we finished here?" Blair asked clearly miffed about something. That something probably had a lot to do with sitting in a Brooklyn café with Dan Humphrey sitting across from her. It had taken the entire walk over for him to belay her condemnations, and so she had sat down with only mild Blair Waldorf criticisms.

Dan shook his head and motioned to her plate, "Not until you are." He ordered another coffee; he could be in for a long wait.

"Dan Humphrey, quite the slave driver you're turning out to be." She sounded marginally amused.

"You'll feel better with your hunger satiated, and I will evade further responsibility." He leaned back against the chair, and surveyed his company with muted interest. One had to be prepared in such close proximity to one Blair Waldorf, anything less would be fool's play.

"So says you, I'm sure I have a whole dossier worth of complaints left." After giving him a pointed stare, she finished the last few bites of her French toast.

He crossed his arms, "Which is precisely why I don't need to add any more fuel to the fire, you'll do just fine burning without my help." He ran a finger over the brim of his coffee mug, "I've seen enough firsthand accounts that'll last a lifetime."

Blair leaned forward, "I seem to recall you fanning those flames more than once, Humphrey. Or do you simply have selective memory?"

Dan returned her stare and shrugged, "Perhaps I've learnt my lesson? Third degree burns tend to give you a wake-up call."

Blair mock pouts, "What a shame, putting you in your place held some appeal." She gave him another peripheral glance.

-―-―――

Dan fell back onto the couch with a long sigh, "I can't believe its only 10:30."

Blair crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder onto the facing wall, "Somewhere to be, Humphrey?"

"Haven't you heard? I have quite the burgeoning social life."

"Is that what they're calling it these days? More sugar-coated nonsense to pander to the masses, no wonder civilization is on the decline. I'd like to know what fool it was who started handing out gold stars to the most dimwitted students in class for accomplishing the simplest of tasks. Yes, that crayon is indeed purple! Congratulations."

Dan didn't bat an eye at her latest rant; he'd gotten quite used to them over the past few weeks. Nor did he have to spend too much time to wonder who these 'dimwits' were. "Is that going to be your next career objective? Education? I can see it now: Blair Waldorf, Headmistress. You'd even bring back the cane, wouldn't you?"

Blair rolled her eyes before settling down on the other end of the couch. She peered at him from the corner of her eye and shook her head animatedly. "Too tacky. I'd prefer a meter stick." She grinned, and her eyes sparkled imagining the role thoroughly. "Yes."

"Hmm, and what other sorts of punishment would you dole out? Lines have been out of fashion for quite some time."

"Oh I'd bring it back. Penmanship would be graded, as well, I'll have you know."

"Until the carpel tunnel lawsuits came about."

Blair waved her hand. "Weaklings. Natural selection at work."

"Like that would fly with the parents."

"They shouldn't have passed on their moron genes."

Dan's laugh was cut-off by an irritating buzz; Blair looked agitated. Dan shifted his weight, and absently tapped the side of his offending phone before setting it on the coffee table. "Serena," he doesn't look at Blair.

"Don't let my presence stop you."

"It's nothing urgent, lunch is hours away." Dan slouched further into the couch.

"Posture, Humphrey."

Dan bit his lip and grabbed his phone back, 'I'll be there.' He glanced over at Blair, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I'm sure you were invited: lunch with the van der Woodsen's… and dad."

Blair pulled out her phone, and bit her lip; it had been off the entire time.

"Well?"

"I have to turn it on first…"

"Oh."

Blair squeezed the phone as her mind rushed through appropriate grounds of dismissal. "It was my charger I couldn't find the blasted thing. More administrative problems, Dorota is really losing it lately." The phone came alive in her hands; saved by the bell.

"And?" Dan leaned in her direction, "Was I right?"

7 New Voicemails. "Hold it, Humphrey." Blair stood up and listened through the voicemails as she paced around the room. She stopped dead in her tracks, and faced him "Grab your coat; we're a long way from the van der Woodsens."