Blair...

The two of you here together? Please tell me there's an explanation other than the Apocalypse.

Serena: No word from Chuck?
Blair: He's sitting down with Satan this morning.

Blair: Serena, you've done some unforgivable things, like sleeping with Nate when we were saving ourselves for each other or killing Pete Fairman. How far is too far?

Jack: Champagne okay?
Blair: I'd prefer something stronger, to kill the germs.

Blair: What? My mother said she wanted me to pack the crowd with wholesome American girls.
Serena: So you hire escorts. B, you couldn't just tell your mom you don't have friends at NYU?
Blair: Prostitutes are people too! And they have a lot of disposable income.

Blair: Pathetic! Suburban moralists in mom jeans. I'd pity them if I wasn't worried they'd spill orange soda on my Christian Louboutins.

Blair: What happened? Don't tell me that awful whore did something to you.
Chuck: I think that whore might be my mother.

Serena: You don't need Chuck. Anyone that meets you can see you're an elitist snob that belongs in a secret society. Bon chance!
Blair: Merci!

Serena: Did I tell you that he texts me every night before he goes to sleep? It's so sweet.
Blair: Sexting is not sweet. It's off-limits until you're in a relationship.