Three minutes shy of 7am and Blair Waldorf was in Brooklyn; why put off until tomorrow what you can do today was a mantra Blair chose to live by. At least she chose to when it suited her and there'd never be a more apt time as there was now.

-―-―――

Dan was relieved to have the Loft to himself once again. He could come and go as he pleased not on the whim of two cozy blondes. There was something only a sturdy home could provide—must be why super-heroes and -villains would die to keep their lairs secreted away, he mused.

-―-―――

Blair had to suppress the urge to kick the door down; five hard knocks and she'd make her quota, she only had one to go. She made it count, mustering all her strength into the satisfying thud that resulted. She'd been about to begrudge the Humphreys and their broken doorbell, but it would have lacked the gratification that could only be achieved by tactile force. Sometimes the hands-on approach was the only worthwhile one.

-―-―――

Dan couldn't help but connect the pounding door to signal his own besieged lair. Dropping the bread bag on the kitchen counter, he strode to the door. Maybe Ben had left something behind in his rushed departure Dan wouldn't put it passed him.

Not Ben. Blair Waldorf.

Yes his analogy had come to life. There was no doubt—he was under attack.

-―-―――

"Blair."

"Almost thought you'd gone deaf, Humphrey. Another con to add to the list of your deficiencies, can you really hazard another?" She marched passed him as he barely moved away in time. She wouldn't have been adverse to giving him a little shove, oh missed opportunities.

-―-―――

Dan closed the door and turned around in the span of one breath; back turned to Blair Waldorf could only ever be a grave error in judgment. She was dangerous enough in view.

She shook her hair out and fixed him a fierce gaze, her feet shifted.

"Have you come all this way to yell at me?" He couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips.

"We're not done here, Dan."

"About that—I was going to text you…"

"Hadn't checked," she countered. "As I was saying, we are not done because I haven't finished this. And I would have if not for the disruption."

He crossed his arms, "How was that, by the way?"

"Successful. Neither Chuck nor Serena noticed a thing. You can avoid failure it seems." She dusted off her sleeve.

"Hmm."

She wrinkled her nose, "Is something burning?"

-―-―――

Dan Humphrey burning his breakfast over her arrival gave Blair grim satisfaction. She hovered around his last-ditch salvage efforts like a vulture surveying its carrion.

"Face it, Humphrey. It's done."

Dan threw down the towel and hanged his head. "I know."

"Probably for the best, if it's not gourmet what's the point?"

Dan glared at her.

-―-―――

After ten minutes of expunging his culinary defeat, Dan faced Blair who was leaning against the bar. She was clearly still amused and wore it on her face with glee. He knocked back the last of his glass of water, and approached her.

"Well, Waldorf?"

"I don't like you, Humphrey. We conducted our experiment, conclusion: there's nothing more. That's that."

"That's probable. So we know for sure."

"Patent pending."

"That's a relief, I hate paperwork."

-―-―――

Blair took a step back and scanned her handiwork, "That's better."

"Was it really necessary to re-organize my bookshelf?"

"Re-organize? There was no organization in the first place!"

"Just because I don't follow the Dewey Decimal System—"

Blair's stomach growled, and her face flushed instantly.

"When did you eat last?"

"I didn't think of it."

"What were you thinking of?"

Blair rolled her eyes, "I don't have the time to coach you through the inner workings of intelligent species, Dan. I swear it's like herding a kindergartner sometimes."

"Blair."

She stared back at him, "What?"

"There's a place a couple blocks away, and we're going."