Logan arrived home later that evening, after having drunken himself into a stupor. Hailed a cab back to the dark fortress, not wanting to go back to the place that had once been filled with happiness and hope; now it was filled with gloom, a constant reminder to what he wasn't going to get, what he couldn't have. The taxi ride down the long driveway sobered him up a bit, he had to be ready for anything, this was the Huntzberger mansion after all.
Logan paid the cabbie and began to walk to the door. He halted when he came upon a black Mercedes, his father's car. He couldn't recall a time when he arrived home after his father. His brows furrowed into a line of confusion across his forehead. He walked into the house. Only a gleam of a light came through the pitch black darkness, before Logan knew what he was doing he was at the cracked study door. His father was sitting in his red-brown leather chair looking disheveled. In one hand was a nearly empty glass of scotch, which would explain the nearly empty bottle on the desk, the other held a piece of paper.
Logan thought he could escape the clutches of hell unseen, he was wrong. Without even a glace up Mitchum knew his presence.
"Logan, come in here. I want to talk to you about something."
Oh boy Logan thought to himself bitterly, it had been years since he had been sucked into one of Mitchum's late night 'talks'.
Logan came into the room and took a seat in front of his father's desk, as a reflex he was rather slouched and hunched over. Mitchum looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"Logan, when I said talk…I really meant talk." Logan glanced up at him, his eyebrows furrowed a bit in confusion and uneasiness. Mitchum chuckled into his drink causing a choking noise to echo through the study.
"I suppose I'll go first then, I received my latest credit card statement today." Logan groaned, "Now let me finish!" Mitchum slammed down the glass, causing Logan to jump,
"as I was saying, I noticed a purchase from Tiffany's, I called them; to check and see if it had been another one of your mother's splurges that I am expected know I gave to her at parties…they told me a Mr. Logan Elias Huntzberger made the purchase, the lady went on the compliment your jewelry tastes…anything you want to mention Logan?" Logan had been looking into his father's eyes, locked; almost challengingly…to his surprise however Mitchum's stare did not mirror his, it was more…hopeful. At Logan's lack of words Mitchum's drunken ones took over.
"Well I hope you get yourGilmore girl." Mitchum's eyes seemed to cloud over. Logan's eyes shot up at his father's emphasis, "What do you mean my Gilmore Girl?" Mitchum was off in his own thoughts,
"You know, ever since Shira came to me I've always somewhat doubted your paternity…until I found out about you and Rory of course, then I knew you were my son." Mitchum looked at Logan, and gave him a smile,
"those Gilmore Girl's take your heart…and you never get it back." Logan felt pain shoot all threw him, he would never let go of this empty feeling? Mitchum seemed to notice his slight wince in pain and eyed him expectantly. Logan sighed, running his hand threw his hair, "I proposed to Rory," a smile spread over Mitchum's face, but Logan continued before Mitchum could interrupt,
"She said no." Logan dropped his head and studied his shoes…after a few minuets he heard the sound of his father's fingers tapping over and over on the desk; he looked up at his dad, who was in deep thought, pondering something that wasn't adding up.
"She said no. That can't be right, the only reason she is here is because of you." Mitchum held up his hand to stop Logan's obvious thoughts of debate to counter the statement.
"No, I mean the fact she is alive is because of you…" Mitchum sighed, he was finally going to have to tell his son about his ultimate heartbreak,
" When I was 22, and had just gotten back from taking time off before working at HPG I met the most peculiar, intriguing girl," Mitchum laughed at the memory, "Well I actually crashed into her….."