Chuck has been sitting in this bar for hours now. Shot after shot, ring after ring... At one point, Bart Bass even answers. Surprisingly. - Dad? I called you... maybe you want to have a drink with me? I'm at a bar, yes. What's wrong? Why can't I just want to have a drink with you? - It's simple. Bart hung up. Like every other socialite in Manhattan, he had long known that his own son was the embodiment of evil and manipulation. But hadn't he made him this way? Is it Chuck's fault? It's hardly his fault that his mother died like that. But Bart clearly doesn't care. And now Chuck is alone again. He has nowhere to call, nowhere to go... Serena clearly doesn't want to see him, and Blair especially... Blair...