While Blair was feeling awkward about being naked while Chuck was on the other side of the door, Chuck was busily trying to distract himself from thinking about that very thing. As he flipped through news channels, he reached over for one of the hotel phones (he kept several around his suite for ease of access) and called his personal concierge to deliver some suitable clothing along with the food.
By the time Blair had come out of the shower, a cart had arrived with four domed platters, two large and two small. The larger plates contained pan-seared chicken in a white wine reduction with black truffle mashed potatoes, but Chuck had hidden the smaller ones on second tier of the cart, saving them for a surprise. Meanwhile, the bed contained (as it so rarely did) a rather varied assortment of clothes - two skirts, several blouses, a sweater-dress and, just in case, a pair of jeans. Several pairs of classy but comfortable ballet flats rested on the floor at the foot of the bed, awaiting her approval.
Of course, Chuck was not thinking about any of that when Blair curled up beside him in just a bathrobe. He couldn't help but look at her, his jaw ever so slightly slack, head tilted a little to the side. Fortunately, one of the TV's power blips snapped him out of it and forced him to turn his attention nervously back to the news, if only for a few seconds, giving her the chance to speak.
"You think I don't?" Chuck asked her slyly, a hint of his old humor returning. "Don't worry, though. The fee is waived for you, as promised."
His smile widened just a little at her idea. "Always good to have a monopoly on something," Chuck agreed, then he nodded toward the food. "Hungry?"
He would've pointed out the clothes before the food, but even though he knew it was a bad idea, his id wanted to keep her in that bathrobe for as long as he could.