Blair: Do you like me?
Chuck: Define “like”.
Blair: You’ve got to be kidding. I do not believe this.
Chuck: How do you think I feel? I haven’t slept. I feel sick like there’s something in my stomach, fluttering.
Blair: Butterflies? Oh no, no, no. This is not happening.
Chuck: Believe me. No one is more surprised and ashamed than I am.
Blair: Chuck, you know that I adore all of God’s creatures and the metaphors they inspire but, those butterflies have got to be murdered.