Blair had heard Chuck leave an hour ago and as expected had not come to greet her with some hidden present. She had moved quickly from her office to her bath tub and was currently soaking in a bath tub full of bubbles. She argued that she did her best thinking in the bath, but all she was thinking about was Humphrey… and the secretary her husband was currently banging.

Hearing her phones tone for a text, she wiped her hand off on the towel and grabbed her phone. "Oh fuck," she said under her breath as she read the text from an unknown number.

"Bass."

It had to be Humphrey and he had somehow managed to put pieces together. "Serena," she moaned again, sinking down into the bath.

"Humphrey, the name is Blair not Bass. Auto-correct fail?" she typed back, hitting send as her phone slipped from her hand into the bathtub.

"Fuck!" she yelled. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Blair reached into the bath and pulled out her phone which was sudsy and wet, so wet. "Of fucking course," she groaned, grabbing a towel and jumping out of the bath. She knew the maid would be downstairs doing their daily once over of the house and yet she didn't care. She ran half naked, and almost killing herself in the process by slipping on a stair or two, to the kitchen. "Rice! I need rice!"

Her maid looked at her like she was crazy, shrugging her shoulders as though she didn't know Blair's pantry inside out.

"Rice!" she felt helpless and just shouted that word over and over again. Finally, a bowl appeared in front of her filled with rice and Blair shoved her phone into the bowl. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand and even through the rice, she could see her phone lighting up. At least it was still working? She was tempted to take it out of the bowl but knew the rice needed to soak up the moisture and she was phone less. Her husband not knowing the date of their anniversary had been the last straw for the day and now she had been desperate for some time out of the house with an old flame and yet now she had no way to get in touch with him.

And yet, it wasn't true. Blair tightened the towel around her and was suddenly glad that she had set up her Mac to take in her text messages as well so she didn't have to keep grabbing her phone at work. Blair went into her office, her breathing slowing from the slight adrenaline rush that she had when she dropped her phone, and plopped herself into her office chair.

5 new text messages.

Was Humphrey desperate? The thought amused her and she clicked on them to read them.

"It wasn't an auto-correct. You're married still?"

"So you lied last night."

"Why?"

"Blair?"

"Okay, so maybe that wasn't a good start of a conversation. It's the hangover talking."

Blair smiled to herself, her cheeks flushing. She stood and closed the door of her office. She started typing back to him once she sat back down.

Dan blew it. He had led with her lie and now he was in the dark of her thoughts. He should have eased in to it, asked at the lunch he was still planning on forcing her to attend. When his phone lit up, his worries started to melt away.

"Funny, I just asked if you saw the ring. I didn't confirm or deny that I was or wasn't going home to Bass. What time is lunch, I'm starving."

Dan smiled, typing back quickly and desperately. "Now?"

"I need to get dressed. Funny story, trying to text you back I dropped my phone in my bath. You owe me a new iPhone if it doesn't work anymore."

"Rice?" he responded, laughing to himself as he tried to imagine the scene of cool, calm and collected Blair dropping her phone into a tub full of water.

"Already in it. Meet me in 30 minutes."

"Where?"

The next text message was a pin of Blair's location. He raised his eyebrows and realized he needed to get ready and fast.

Blair tapped her pen against the granite counter top as she waited for the doorbell to ring. She could see Humphrey on the monitor, he had been downstairs for five minutes at least. She thought about just buzzing him in but didn't want to seem desperate and give away the fact she had been watching the monitor. Finally the bell rang and she counted to 30 very slowly before pressing the button and saying, "Come in."

"Wow," Dan said, stepping in to the foyer. "This place is amazing, Blair."

"Thank you. I designed it myself. Mostly designed it myself. Well, I picked out the granite." She smiled, perching herself on the arm of her very uncomfortable but very cool looking couch. The arm digging into her rear end was more comfortable than the cushions that had no give. "It's a bit cleaner than your tour bus, so there's that."

"Hey, I would like you to know that it's not always like that. Being at home just kind of gets us going crazy. Well, me. I'm the only one from here… from Brooklyn."

"I wouldn't brag about that, Humphrey," she retorted before standing and touching his arm, guiding him from the foyer to the dining room where there was a spread of various food out in front of them. It didn't hurt having a personal chef. "I didn't know what you wanted and I didn't feel like going out."

In fact, she hadn't felt like going out since the news of the affair had found her ears. Any time she went out, she was stopped by friends or friends of friends or worse family friends. All of them pretend that they didn't know, but she could feel their pity oozing from their pores and she hated pity. At least, she hated being on the receiving end of pity.

"Sit, enjoy. Do you want a drink? Alcoholic or non?"

"Alcoholic. Whiskey, if you have it."

Blair nodded and called out for John, who was another of the staff that she and Chuck employed to keep their house running. It was embarrassing really, but she couldn't live without them as now she had no idea where anything was in her house. John came back with a bottle and two glasses and Blair brought them to the table. "I don't drink this stuff, so I guess the second glass is also for you."

"Drink with me, at least."

"I don't drink before," Blair glanced at her watch which told her it was barely 11 30, "12."

"A new policy?"

"Set up today."

"Shame," Dan said, grabbing a few ice cubes from the ice bucket and pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "Tell me about Chuck."

Blair recoiled and shook her head. "I'm the journalist here with a story to write. Tell me about Serena."

"What is there to tell?" Dan asked, confused. He took a sip and felt relief through his blood stream that he was no longer trying to nurse his hangover with water but gave it the stuff it really craved. "I used to date her. You know this, Blair. Why are you asking?"

"Last night, what was she doing there?"

"She came to hang out? Is this what the story is about. My ex-girlfriends? Are you writing yourself into the story?"

"I think you wrote a whole book about me, Humphrey."

Dan's eyes opened wide and he laughed as he swirled the ice in his drink around. "Touché."

Blair grabbed a grape from the table and popped it into her mouth. "Is she your muse?"

"Honestly, Blair, what are you talking about? She came over last night and we had fun… she's not a muse of any kind."

"You sometimes write about the fun you have with girls… is she the one you are talking about?"

Dan laughed. "You think I slept with Serena last night?"

"And every time you come to Brooklyn."

Dan laughed again and could see it was annoying Blair and forced himself to laugh harder. "You are ridiculous, Waldorf."

"She implied it last night."

"Holy shit, things don't die between the two of you."

Blair narrowed her eyes and swatted her pen at him. "What are you talking about?"

"She accused me of sleeping with you this morning. Maybe accuse is not the right word but she thought something had happened. She thought you were making up a story when you said you were there for an interview, that we were having an affair."

Blair stared at him, her jaw wide open. "Why?"

"You'd have to ask her. For the record, and you can print this in your story, I didn't sleep with Serena and I haven't for ten years."

"Then why was she there?"

Dan smirked, "You sound like a jealous girlfriend. You and Serena have a friendship that I'll never understand. You both strive to one up the other one."

"I certainly wouldn't say sleeping with you would have been a one up," Blair responded, looking away from him.

"And yet look how riled up you are, Blair."

"I'm not riled up."

"Your hands made little fists for a minute there."

"A natural reaction to be sitting across from someone I despise."

Dan laughed and took one of the finger sandwiches from the table and shoved it in his mouth. He made a circle around the food with his finger and swallowed. "Is this how you treat someone you despise?"

"Can we just get to the story?" she said, her cheeks flushing as she grabbed the wine that was on the table and poured herself a generous glass.

Dan cocked and eyebrow up, "I thought you didn't drink before noon."

Blair looked at her watch, fifteen minutes before noon. She pulled out the knob and adjusted it and shoved it in his face. "It's noon now," she said as she took a gulp.

"Fair enough. Now, fire away. Give me your best shots."

"Why music?"

"Books took too long," he joked. "No, I don't know. Maybe the passion of my father finally rubbed off and I found that I had a semi-decent voice and all these dumb poems I wrote made semi-decent songs."

"Is semi-decent your favorite description of things you do?"

"Yes. It sounds humble and yet acknowledges that I know my stuff isn't all bad."

"It's not bad at all," she said, softening. Taking a sip of her wine, she started to rattle off questions that Dan easily answered. He was a pro, he had been doing interviews for the last 8 years of his life after his first CD was a critical, if not a wide selling, success. After forty minutes, the pair of them were decently sloshed from the drinking and both were enjoying the back and forth banter that would never transfer over to page.

"Who's your muse, Humphrey?" Blair asked, pointing at him. "Do you have a secret girlfriend? Maybe secret boyfriend? Who helps you write all these beautiful songs. Beautifully tragic, really. Who broke your heart and then mended it and then stomped on it?"

Dan bit his lip and shrugged, "They're just songs, Blair. They aren't about any person in particular. Just all of my experiences rolled into one, I guess." He lied. He was lying through his gritted teeth but he didn't want to tell her it was her. That a relationship that lasted barely more than a blink of the eye dictated the rest of his life.

"When are you going to write another book? Preferably not about me this time so I can enjoy it more."

"I thought you enjoyed your starring lead in my book," he gave her a half smile and looked from his glass to her eyes. Both of them quickly looked away and Dan cleared his throat. "I'm working on something… I'm not sure what it is yet but it's something. Maybe a book of poems or songs… maybe combine them into a cohesive tale."

"About?"

"Love… loss… heartbreak… the usual."

"Well, hopefully it has a happy ending."

"Does life?"

"Does life what?" she asked.

"Have a happy ending?"

"I don't know. Mine is still going."

"So is mine. I can't figure out if it's a happy going though.

"Me either," Blair said softly, pushing her glass away from her. "I should probably start typing this and my interview from last night up. This is all getting too heavy for a Saturday."

Dan smiled sadly, "Yeah, I should probably go. We have our final soundcheck. Maybe on our third show we can finally get it right."

"I want to go… to the show… if the offer is still on the table."