Their food finally arrived, and Dan quickly reverted back to his uniquely Brooklyn habit of unflappably grabbing food off of other people's plates.
Damon discovered, first hand, the humorous awkwardness of it all when Dan casually plucked a curly fry off of his plate.
"What was that?" Damon sputtered in a slight drawl.
"Hmm?" Dan replied, chewing on the fry.
"You…don't you have your own food?"
"Yeah, but I wanted one of those fries," Dan shrugged. "They look good."
"They are, but they're mine." Damon answered. Nate laughed and leaned forward.
"Get used to it," Nate advised. "Dan has no concept of boundaries. You should see him drink."
"Uh-huh." Damon said as he flattened his eyebrows in what was theoretically a threatening manner. It more or less came off as deadpan. Perhaps he was finally lightening up somewhat. Dan merely quirked off that little grin he was so good at.
"Am I allowed to ask why you gutpunched Chuck?" Nate asked, trying not to betray any real tells. Damon just shrugged.
"I felt it was my duty as a person with awesome hair to hit someone who walked around with that much hair gel." Damon answered. Dan briefly choked on his sandwich with laughter.
"What did you say to Blair?" Dan asked, suddenly acutely remembering the video of his little altercation. Damon had mumbled something to the shocked Waldorf.
"Some joke about her face," Damon flatly lied. He was actually enjoying his current meal and so no need to ruin it. "She had a really shocked facial expression. Probably because of the guy on the ground crying."
"Chuck was crying?" Dan asked, using a good deal of energy trying to contain his glee.
"Oh, yeah," Damon smirked. "Are you surprised? Look at how he dresses. Ascots aren't toughguy clothing."
"But man-rings are?" Nate asked, pointing towards Damon's hand.
"When you're me, yeah," Damon answered, believing every word of what he was saying. "Did you see my punch?"
Nate nodded, rolling his eyes just a little. This Damon guy was, well, a little weird. In Nate's eyes, it was like someone rolled Dan and Blair together and gave the resulting male product a leather jacket, Southern accent and impressively expressive facial features. It appeared that Damon could have an entire conversation with eyes and brows only.
"Has anyone seen Chuck since that?" Dan asked.
"He's been calling me nonstop trying to find out the name of whoever hit him," Nate shrugged. "He's already started rewriting it. He now claims it was a cheap shot."
"He swung first," Damon said, a little offended. "And how can a punch in the gut be cheap?"
"Because it was captured on camera," Dan mused. A discussion that centered on Damon's physical strength was an odd one for Dan, largely because he knew at least a portion of Damon's muscle. "It doesn't help that no one knows your name."
"I'm mysterious like that." Damon grinned with playful voice, making Dan laugh and Nate sort of shrug.
"Were you a boxer or something?" Nate asked.
"Football player, but that was a while ago." Damon explained.
Dan made note of this, in case he ever did decide to very secretly write a story. He also noted that he had an odd habit of befriending jocks; Nate with his [their] soccer and lacrosse and now Damon with football. There was probably a pattern, but he wasn't enthusiastic enough to pursue it.
"How do you like Gossip Girl?" Dan asked of Damon. Nate's eyes perked up at this. The two of them were grizzled veterans of said website, and largely immune to some of her powers. Damon was more or less fresh to the scene.
"I have the nagging suspicion she doesn't have a life." Damon answered.
"Our lives are her life," Nate partly corrected. "It's kinda screwy, but you had to grow up with it."
"I think you're all kinda screwy." Damon asserted.
"Took you long enough to figure that out," Dan said, earning a nod from Nate. "I earned a spot on her crap list when I dated Serena. Then I had the nerve to become friends with Blair. She's really defensive."
"And I'm her latest target? Why?" Damon asked, not showing his actual confusion.
"Because you're hanging around with me." Dan said.
"Because you punched Chuck." Nate added.
"…Huh." Damon concluded. New York was a lot different than he remembered. Damon had liked it better when it was roving gangs of really angry and unemployed immigrants. Ah, he missed the late 1800s.
"Have Blair's minions found you yet?" Nate asked, laughing a little as he shoved some sandwich in his mouth. Dan quickly chugged coffee to avoid showing the fact all the color had drained from his face.
"Nah," Damon shrugged. "I hope no one loses their head over trying to find me. I'm not that interesting. Right, Danny Boy?"
"Uhhh… not that I've seen, no." Dan stammered. He tried to communicate some sort of look of disapproval towards the Vamp. Damon's eyebrows fluttered carelessly. Dan put on a subtle glower.
"It's weird you all use terms like 'minions'," Damon noted. "What is Blair supposed to be, exactly?"
"The Queen of the Village of the Damned," Dan answered. "Or Scarlett O'Hara."
"Yeah, whoever wrote Gone With The Wind would be proud." Nate joked, showing off the fact he actually read some of the books Dan had encouraged him to. Dan noted this internally.
"Margaret Mitchell." Damon said between bites of curly fries. Dan looked impressed. Though, for all he knew Damon was at the original 1936 release party. "So, both of you went after Queen Blair?"
"I went first," Nate sighed. "Dan came in later. Though, it was a bit of a failure to launch."
"That's putting it nicely," Dan scoffed. "Let's just say that social roles take precedence with her."
"And she's a bitch." Nate said, translating for the still longing Dan.
"Nate, not cool." Dan corrected. Damon smirked.
"Why is she untouchable around here?" He asked.
"She's Blair." Dan and Nate answered in unison. That was all they could really come up with.
"Uh-huh," Damon said, a singular eyebrow aloft. "And you, Danny Boy, are so mad… why?"
"Because she went back to Chuck." Dan answered.
"And she wasn't supposed to?" Damon asked. "Are you mad because it happened or because you felt it was supposed to happen with you?"
"He swapped her for a Hotel!" Dan blurted out, his curls bouncing a little. "And she goes back to him. I don't think even you can explain that, Damon."
At this, Nate cocked an eyebrow. "What makes him so special?"
"I'm Southern," Damon answered, narrowing his glance at Dan. He wasn't mad, just a little surprised Dan would dare bounce the secret ball back at him like that. "That means I have a unique insight when it comes to manipulative women." It wasn't really a lie, but more of a selective omission.
"Okay." Nate said, a little perplexed but satisfied with the answer.
"Danny would be a lot better off if he would have been the one to punch Chuck," Damon teased. "But I am guessing I'm stronger."
"I punched Chuck plenty before you got here. It was almost a once a month thing." Dan bragged. Damon was impressed. Writers had come a long way, apparently.
The conversation tapered off as everyone returned to their food. As much as he wanted to write them off as whiney twentysomethings [which they were], Damon couldn't completely. They weren't as one-dimensional as he was accustomed to. He had just watched two people go from enemies back to friends in one decently awkward conversation. He couldn't tell if he was impressed or not.