The front door suddenly opened and then slammed just as quickly, making Lorelai jump in her seat. She turned towards the open doorway just as Daryl strode into the room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. "What are you doin' here?"

She gave a half shrug. "The front door was open."

"What; so that gives you the right to just come in an' squat?"

"If you don't want me coming in here, then start locking your doors," Lorelai advised casually. "And I wasn't squatting; I was waiting for you."

"Well, you'll be waitin' a long time," Daryl growled, as he continued his storm across the room, kicking a wooden chair out of his way.

He was angry. That wasn't difficult to tell. Lorelai knew that it wasn't really aimed at her. She hadn't done enough to cause him to storm in like that. She hadn't done enough to make him come in, reeking of alcohol and foul-smelling cigarettes. Even now, he was grabbing a carton and a lighter from the sideboard, clicking the reel to try and light up right in the middle of the room.

Lorelai wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Don't smoke that inside. You'll make everything stink."

"What are you; my ma or my landlady?" Daryl drawled, taking a long, deliberate drag from the cigarette and blowing the smoke in her direction.

Lorelai felt a pang of annoyance. He could be a real dick sometimes, especially when he was drunk. But she'd learnt enough to know that he was never a dick without reason. Something or someone had ticked him off. Really ticked him off. She could either find out what that was or she could rise to his fury, let it ebb into her too, and have this escalate into a full-blown argument over nothing. She didn't want that. She never used to be much of an argumentative person. Dealing with other people's fury was tough enough; let alone her own.

She got up and impatiently waved the smoke away as she moved through it. It was the only sign of annoyance she showed. She knew better than to rise to it. One person's anger only rubbed off onto someone else. She had to take a different route. Luckily, it was the one she was most used to taking. Particularly with Daryl.

"What happened?" she asked, more kindly than she felt inclined to feel.

Daryl shrugged. "Nothin'."

"'Nothing' wouldn't have pissed you off this much," Lorelai pointed out, casually leaning against the sideboard beside him. Daryl had never been forthcoming with truths or feelings, but lately, she'd been learning what buttons to push to actually get somewhere.

He looked like he was going to shrug again, but instead, he took another long drag of his cigarette. Finally, he replied, "My dad's back in town. Bumped into him down by the gas station."

Lorelai felt a pang of sympathy. She didn't know that much about the man that had plagued Daryl's childhood, but she knew enough. She at least knew how Daryl felt about him. No wonder he'd hit the bars hard before coming home. "Did he talk to you?" Daryl made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat that she took to be a yes. "What did he say?"

"Nothin' that matters," said Daryl gruffly.

"I'm sorry," said Lorelai, though she wasn't really sure what she was sorry for. For whatever horrible things that his dad must have said. For not being in town with him. For his sucky upbringing.

"If you're gonna be sorry for anythin', it should be that you keep lettin' yourself in here."

Lorelai smiled. "I told you; if you wanna keep me out, then start locking your door."

All his fury seemed to have diminished now. Lorelai told herself it could have just as easily been the cigarette as her attempts at comfort, the way he always turned to those things like a kid with a safety blanket. Still, he now seemed to be in that mellow, brooding stage that he often slipped into after his bad moods. She knew he liked to be by himself even more when he was brooding than when he was angry. You couldn't take mellow out on other people.

She patted his bare arm reassuringly. "I'll give you some space."

Daryl puffed on the cigarette again. "Alright." He made no move to stop her.

But when Lorelai came back later that night, the front door was still unlocked, just like it always was. No matter how many times she told him she'd keep coming back, he still kept leaving it open. Or maybe that was just the idea.