The terror that they'd experienced together seemed remote to Blair now, as she happily tucked into her meal. It felt as remote as a distant nightmare, almost as if it hadn't happened at all. While it might be a bit unusual--dining with Chuck wearing only a bathrobe--she felt like she'd shed her fear along with her bloodstained clothing in his lavish bathroom.
"I will never understand your obsession with scotch," she informed him snootily around dainty bites of chicken. "Ever since that first time in eighth grade off the Captain's decanter, you've never left the stuff alone."
She smiled almost fondly at the recollection of a Chuck Bass that was still discovering the world of adult debaucheries. Stretching her legs out before her, she was pleased to discover that her pedicure was still intact. Really, all she needed was a new dress and access to someone's makeup collection and she'd be set to rights. It was a shame really, being without her minions. But still, this was a vast improvement to what she'd looked like at the bar.
"To living properly then," Blair responded belatedly, reaching for her nonexistent drink to toast with. Realizing that she had only a glass of water before her she raised her eyebrows, regarding Chuck expectantly.