You guys might recognize the dialogue as coming from the show. It is, because they were geniuses and i'm nowhere near as good. But i've toyed with it a little, adding stuff or deleting some. I hope you guys like this, because I might be inclined to continue this (once my elbow stops hurting that is). so please, review!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything about the Gilmore Girls. I wish I did, because we'd be at season 14 by now.

Prelude: Thursday, At Yale

"I cannot believe this. After all this time, your mother tells you now?" Rory asks incredulously, a frown on her face. Marty shrugs and looks down at his feet. "My dad looked relieved." Rory stops walking to look at her friend, the frown on her face now even deeper. "He did not." Marty looks up at her, looking extremely uncomfortable. "I heard him say 'whew'."

The duo starts walking away from the coffee-cart when somebody bumps into Marty.

"Oh, sorry." He says, before turning back to Rory to continue their conversation. "No, seriously, you couldn't see me there?" a voice calls after them, making them turn around. Rory opens her mouth, to defend her friend against the very rude person she was now looking at, but gets interrupted by an accented voice.

"Not everyone's staring at you, Colin." The rude guy turns to the guy with the accent, definitely prepared to have a full blown discussion in the middle of the courtyard, when the third guy interrupts their starting quarrel.

"Hey" the blond one says to Marty "I know you. No, wait, wait, don't tell me. I'm seeing a uniform of some sort." He looks at Marty questioningly, clearly wanting an answer. Before Marty can respond, the accented guy speaks up again "Maytag repairman." he says sarcastically. Marty looks even more uncomfortable with this conversation than he did with the one about his parentage, and that's saying something.

"I've bartended for you. For your parties." A glimmer of recognition flickers across the blonde's face. "That's right, you have! You're a talented man." He turns to face Rory, before he says "He makes a kick-ass margarita." Marty lets out a little chuckle at that, because he's seen this guy drunk, and he doubts if at that time the guy could even distinguish a margarita from a cerveza. But whatever. "Thanks" he says anyway, knowing when not to blow up bridges, after all, he made 2000 buck off of him last semester alone.

"It's good to see you again …" the sentence stops short, and Rory sees the guy trying to remember Marty's name, and drawing up a blank. "What's your name?" he asks, not even the slightest bit embarrassed by the fact that he needs to ask the question. "Marty. Uhm, and this is Rory." Marty motions his head towards her, not that the blonde even particularly cares. "Hi" he says, uninterestedly. "So, assuming your services are still for hire this year, your financial situation hasn't changed at all?" Marty's back to looking a little flustered, it's not like he wants everybody on campus to know his financial situation isn't exactly in the green. "Nope." he answers him.

"Good. Okay, I'll give you a call. Where are you living now?" Not that it really matters. "Branford." "Oh excellent. Branford. All right." The blonde says, definitely trying to round out this conversation. After all, the blonde girl on his arm suggests he's got better things to do with his time. "Good running into you." And with that, the foursome turns around and walks away.

Marty turns to Rory, face very apologetic. "I kind of hate those guys." Rory cracks a smile and raises her eyebrow. "Really? I can't see why." It wasn't until she got to her dorm room she realized nobody even mentioned his name.

Friday, 6.25 PM

Keys, keys.. where the hell are my keys. She thought to herself as she ran around the room, lifting up books and sweaters and whatnot. "Mom.. if you were keys, where would you be?" she yelled towards her open door, into the kitchen. She got a snort in return. "Oh, is this like a quiz thing? Where would I be if I were a set of keys?" Lorelai pretended to ponder the question over. "The oven?" Rory popped out of her room and headed towards the end tablet hat stood in the hallway.

"How in the world would my keys have ended up in the oven? They weren't wet, so there was no need to dry them. They are also not edible, so there really is no significant reason they should be in the oven." She shook her head as she opened up all the drawers of the table. "I'm going to be so, so so late! You know they hate it when somebody is late. It's 'bad etiquette' or something." Lorelai smiled. "How about the door?" she yelled towards her daughter.

"The door?" came her response. "what about the door?" "did. You. Leave. Them. On. The. Door?" Lorelai punctuated every word, as if Rory was an idiot. "I didn't open the door myself remember. You so generously opened it for me after I spent 10 minutes kicking it, my hands being full of laundry." Rory grumbled, thinking back a few hours.

She'd come home, pulled all the laundry out of the car, and had no free hands to open up the door. Nor could she ring the bell (if it even worked, she couldn't remember if Luke had gotten around to fix it). So she kicked the door, in the hopes her mother would be gracious enough to open it. She was, it only took her forever to actually do it. And when the door finally opened, she's had to listen to her mother go on and on about having to get up, out from under the warm blanket and away from the TV.

Isn't it enough that I gave you life? Isn't it enough that I fed you and clothed you? I now also have to get up and open the door for you? What are you going to do for mommy to pay her back for all that service I provided?

Rory had expertly ignored her mother, and stomped into her room to sort her laundry.

She shook her head, getting rid of the memory, and went back to searching for her keys. Deciding to try outside, she might have dropped them when she was hauling her bags into the house, she opened up the door and bumped straight into Luke. Who was holding her keys. "Oh Luke! You're a lifesaver. I've been looking for those for hours. Slightly overstating the time, but then again, she was a Gilmore and if nothing else, they do have a penchant for overreacting. Instead of dropping the keys in her outstretched hand, Luke held them up a little higher. "You're not even going to ask me how I got a hold of your keys?" he looked a little upset. Rory tilted her head to the side, trying to find out exactly why Luke would be upset. "I was just headed outside, to see if I had dropped them there when I was bringing my laundry in." she said tentatively. "To see if you'd dropped them." He said through clenched jaws.

"Hey, what's all this noise about?" Lorelai asked, walking from the kitchen towards the door, coffee cup ever present in her hands. "You two are really something you know that?" Luke asked, getting even more agitated. "No regards for your own health, drinking coffee like it's air and all the junk food you keep eating. And no regards for your own safety. Leaving your doors unlocked and windows open. I don't care we live in a small town, that stuff is dangerous Lorelai." Luke was ranting. And when Luke was ranting, it was best to keep still and let him finish. This was a lesson long learned by both Gilmore Girls. They secretly enjoyed finding ways to make him go off on a rant. On occasion, they even bet on how long it would last before he exploded, or how long the rant was going to last. Once, they even made a bet about how many times he would fling his hands in the air while ranting. Watching Luke when he was like that, was even better than watching 'Real housewives'. Infinitely more entertaining.

"Whoa, Luke. Slow down. Where is this coming from all of a sudden?" Lorelai asked, when it became clear that Luke was done yelling. "I distinctly remember locking the door after you left last night, thanks for fixing the doorbell by the way, so what exactly is the problem?" Luke raised his arms in the air again, dangling Rory's keys. "The problem Lorelai, is that I just walked up to the house and saw Rory's car door open, keys still in the ignition. It could have been stolen. You really should be more careful Rory, this may be Stars Hollow, but I doubt the people in New Haven are as… " He didn't quite know how to finish that sentence. He couldn't say trustworthy because with all of the gossip flying around this town. But the Hollow was a small town, and everybody knew everybody, so crime wasn't really an issue. "I doubt your car would still be standing there if you did this anywhere else." He finished instead.

Rory slapped her hand against her forehead. "Oh right. I was hauling my bags out of my car, but couldn't carry them and my keys, so I left them there. I was going to come straight back to get them, but mom took forever to open the damn door. I forgot." Luke turned his head to look at her. "You forgot?" he asked, disbelief in his voice. "Yes, I forgot. I'm busy , so things get forgotten. And now I'm also late." She turned towards her mother. "This," she motioned between the three of them, standing in the hallway, "is your fault. Which means, my being late is also your fault. So, if grandma asks, I'm totally going to blame this on you." She held her hands out for her keys, and Luke reluctantly dropped them in. "Bye!" Rory yelled over her shoulder as she ran out the door. She heard Luke call back "Don't forget your keys this time!" It made her smile. He was the closest thing she had to a real dad, because lord knows Christopher didn't fit that particular bill. Chris, while she loved him very much, was flakey at best. Not at all dependable. But Luke? He had even come to her caterpillar's funeral, thank you very much. He'd made her mash potatoes and chicken soup when she was sick. And last year, he'd hauled a matrass from Yale, to Yale, from Yale… . And he was worried about her. Rory just hoped he and her mom would really make it work. It would be nice if he would become her 'dad' officially. But she wasn't thinking about that, she really wasn't.

Friday 7.10 PM

Dear Rory,

Our cook decided it was time the kitchen got a remodel, and consequently lit it on fire. I made a reservation at a restaurant in town for dinner.

See you soon,

Grandma.

"The note was taped to the door. Taped to the door." Rory was sitting in her car, talking to her mother on the phone. "Why didn't she call? Cancel? I mean, have you ever know Grandma tape something to a door?" Lorelai was trying to contain her giggles, because that was indeed strange behavior coming from her mother. "She probably tried calling, but you don't answer when you drive, remember? And since you were already on your way there, a note might have seemed acceptable. And she didn't cancel because this is Friday Night Dinner. And there is no cancelling, unless you are dying." Rory frowned. "If there is no cancelling Dinner, why aren't you here?" she asked, suspicion in her tone. "Well, see mommy just opened up this new business and it being something touristy, she has to occasionally miss dinner in order to work. Seeing as this is an excuse frequently used by my father, I assumed it would also be valid for me. And surprisingly, my mother agreed. So, now you go in, like the good girl you are, and remember, use the utensils from the outside in."

Rory sighed and opened up the door to the restaurant. It looked fancy. She looked down at her outfit and was suddenly glad her grandmother demanded she dress up for Friday Night Dinner. This would have been embarrassing if she'd been there in jeans and a ratty t-shirt. "The table for Gilmore please?" she asked the hostess, while taking off her coat. The hostess led her through the restaurant towards a darker corner, to a table for two, which already had an occupant. Who was definitely not her grandmother. She rounded the table to face him. "You!" she hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?" she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Whoa there, be careful. I've heard lightning inside is very dangerous. You wouldn't want to get anybody hurt now would you." He laughed at her. He actually laughed at her. Her scowl deepened. "I get the feeling you don't like me. You don't know me, but you don't like me." He looked up at Rory, who was still standing over him, arms crossed, looking less than happy.

"I know you." She grumbled, finally dropping down in the chair opposite of his. "You do?" the guy asked surprised. He was pretty sure he'd remember seeing her before. Specially with that attitude. There weren't a lot of girls who gave him that kind of attitude. "We met yesterday. With Marty." The confused look on his face made it pretty clear he didn't remember Marty. "Marty?" he asked anyway.

Rory sighed an annoyed sigh. "Marty, my friend Marty. He bartended for you." He thought for a minute, and vaguely remembers a conversation in the quad about bartending and margaritas. "Yes, Marty. I'm sorry. It slipped my mind. Of course I met you yesterday, with Marty. Nice to see you again…" Rory threw him another murderous look. "Rory! How is it possible you are here at my dinner table and you don't even know my name!"

"Nice to see you again Rory. You're looking well, angry works for you." He said, as if she didn't just ask him a question. "But, to be fair, I was supposed to meet a girl named Lorelai here tonight, so you might see where I got a little confused."

Rory threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm not angry. I'm irritated. And my name is Lorelai. I just go by Rory." He filed that away is his mind, trying to make sure not to forget again. "You're irritated? By me?" he asked her. "Yes" she clipped back, not willing to waist more words on him at that moment. "Because I forgot for a moment who you were?" Rory had to genuinely fight the urge to kick him under the table. "No, because you speak to people as if they are below you. And because I was not supposed to meet you here. Unless you are wearing a disguise and are secretly my grandmother."

"I hate to tell you this, but we've been bamboozled, probably by your grandmother and my mother. And, wait a second, what people?" He tried to think back to the conversation yesterday, but it was a little bit blurry. Whiskey blurry.

"Marty" came Rory's short and hissed answer. "Ah.. your friend Marty?" This time, she didn't restrain herself and kicked him under the table. "Yes, my friend Marty. You talked to him like he was dirt, and that's one of the reasons I'm looking at you like this." The guy was still rubbing his shin from where she'd kicked him. "I'm sorry. What did I say that was so bad that I deserve that look and that kick? I said hello and I think I said he made a kick-ass margarita."

Rory shook her head. "It's not what you said. It's how you said it." He looked confused. "How'd I say it?" Rory had to think for a second, finding a good way to describe the arrogant and elitist way he'd sounded while talking to Marty. "Like Judi Dench." Ha, take that you stupid-face. Good thing she didn't say that part out loud, because that even sounded lame in her own head.

He put his hand over his heart, like she'd wounded him. "Ouch." JudiDench he thought to himself. That's just harsh. "Just because somebody doesn't have money or a fancy family doesn't mean they're inferior to you." She was practically yelling now, and drawing some unwanted attention from other patrons. The waitress kept looking their way, trying to find a moment of quiet so she could take their order. It didn't look like it was happening soon though. And he was getting a little hungry.

"I agree." He told her, maybe agreeing with her would speed this thing up and they could either start eating, or he could just leave. Preferably the latter. But she was on a roll, it seemed. "And just because somebody is a bartender at a party for you and your friends, that doesn't mean that you can talk to them like a servant." She slapped her hand on the table for emphasis and made a motion to stand. "Well…" he said, not really wanting to bend to her reasoning.

"What!?" she leaned back in her chair, looking at him like he'd just said that he assassinated Kennedy. "I hired him. I paid him. He served. That's what a servant does." This was not really the way this night was supposed to go. He was going to have a nice dinner with a girl, because his Porsche hung in the balance. He was going to be nice and polite and then they would each go their separate ways and he'd pacified his mother for at least another 2 months. He was not, however, supposed to get into an argument with her. And he most definitely didn't intend to enjoy it so much. Weird twists, this night.

"Are you serious?" she incredulously asked. He leaned his elbows on the table, clearly getting into it. "For the sake of argument." Rory huffed. "He was doing a job." They stared at each other a second. "A job he took willingly." She snorted. "Some people have to work." He ran his hand through his hair. She wasn't looking. No really, she wasn't. She wasn't somewhat attracted to the rude, ignorant, snobby douche bag (much better than 'stupid face'). And she didn't sort of enjoy herself with the back-and-forth. Nope. Not. A. Chance.

"And I bet if you ask him he'll tell you he made excellent tips that night. Because my friends… they tend to enjoy their re-fills." She crossed her legs and huffed. Not that he noticed her legs. He didn't. He didn't notice that she wasn't wearing those nylon things. He imagine how they would feel, all soft and silky. "Not the point." She said, as if that was an actual argument. "To a bartender, tips are very much the point." he countered.

She sat up a little straighter again, her legs disappearing under the table. "Just because you pay somebody, it doesn't mean that you can speak to them as if they're beneath you." He cocked his head to the side a little, and gave her a once over. There were definitely no shivers running across her skin. Not at all.

"Actually, the fact that this is a free country means I can speak to anyone in any manner which I choose." He saw her gearing up to rip him a new one at that statement, so he rushed to finish. "However, the rules of a civilized society may frown upon a certain obvious show of snobbery, so if that's your argument…" He wasn't as dumb as he seemed yesterday, Rory thought. Just arrogant, and probably lazy, bumming off of daddy's money. "I don't have an argument." She said, her tone very definite.

He wondered if it would be in his best interest to poke the proverbial bear (because she was the size of a field mouse) but he couldn't help himself. He was actually enjoying this. "I can give you a moment to formulate one, if you want to continue." Rory bucked at that. She was in the damn debate team at Chilton. She did not 'need a moment' to form arguments. She was just… not in the mood. And busy. "I don't have time for this. This was supposed to be a dinner with my grandmother. I've got studying to do."

He thought about that for a second, but when she made a second attempt to get up, he stopped her with his words. "You concede." Well, I have never. Rory did not concede. That debate team thing had been with Paris, so she never lost. Or conceded. That's not the way Rory Gilmore rolled. "I don't like it when people hurt my friends." She hissed in his direction. "And you react when goaded." He filed that away with the mention of her name, into a little corner of his brain, he now referred to as the 'Rory corner'. "I am not goaded. I am so far from goaded. Get out your compass, and I will show you how far from goaded I am."

He snorted. A compass? Really? "I think we've got a serious debater in our midst." Rory was just about to answer, when her phone rang.

"Hello, Rory Gilmore speaking."

"Loinfruit, why so formal. Did you not screen check for mommy? You know I've taught you better than that. What if it was Paris calling? Or your grandmother. Granted, that would be weird, since you're sitting at the same table, but still."

"Mom! I'm not at dinner with Grandma. She tricked me, so I guess now we know why she was so okay about you not coming for dinner."

"She did what? Trick you how? Did she try to sell you for some camels again? Because I've told her a billion times already, camels just don't have that good a table manners."

"Well, I got to the restaurant, and it wasn't Grandma waiting for me. She set me up."

"Oh sweets. Do you want me to 'pop' her? Make her 'sleep with the fishes'. I'll take the gun but leave the cannoli."

"MOOM! This is not funny. And you need to stop re-watching 'The Godfather'. Please, for me?"

"Fine. But it is a little funny. This is what your Grandma does. She tricks people into doing things she wants, because she things she knows what's best for everybody. You don't have to take that lying down. Just walk out, if you don't want to be there. Do you want mommy to give you an excuse to leave?"

"Yes!"

"Ohh, whiney voice. Is it really that bad? Okay, let me see… how about you tell him – it is a him right? – I need you at the Inn, because… the horses escaped? Oh no wait, the computer-thingy did something, and I need you to come and fix it."

"Fine, mom. I'll be there in 30 minutes."

Rory hung up and looked at her 'dinnerpartner'. "I have to go. My mom needs my help with something." Part of her was sorry to leave. But because of him. Of course not because of him. About the food she didn't get. She was sorry about the food. She'd just have to stop at Luke's on the way home.

"Tell Marty I said hi, and I promise to remember you instantly next time." She didn't respond but just kept looking at him. "Now tell me this wasn't fun?" Still no response. But as she turned around and left, he told her "Master and commander." She turned back to him, confused. "The movie?" He shook his head. "No, that's what I want you to call me from now on." He gives her the brightest most shit-eating grin she's ever seen.

As she walks out of the restaurant, she sort of feels bad for the waitress and the owners. They'd sat there for about 45 minutes and didn't even order any drinks. They were going to be missing some revenue because of that. She should have left some money.

On the drive home, she realizes she still doesn't know his name.

Friday 8.15 PM

Instead of heading straight home, she passed by her grandparent's house. After she rang the doorbell for about 5 times, her grandmother finally opened the door. "Good heavens Rory, where's the fire? And what are you doing here, you're supposed to be at dinner with…" Rory interrupted her grandmother, quite rudely, but she didn't care at that moment. "Yes Grandma, I know where I'm supposed to be. What were you thinking, making me walk into a date without telling me. First of all, I don't need my grandmother setting up dates for me! I'm 19 years old, I think that makes me old enough to choose my own dates. Secondly, I'm not coming to next Friday's dinner. You forfeited next week for this stunt. Good evening!" Rory turned around and left, leaving her grandmother speechless, standing in the opened door.

When she arrived home, she found her mother surrounded by 5 kinds of take-out. "I assumed you didn't eat, at that fancy date you went on. So I ordered us 'a heart-attack at 40'." Rory looked questioningly at her mother. "Luke's words, not mine. Who cares about 40, when you can eat all this deliciousness now."

"You are a goddess!" Rory said, while throwing her coat at the coatrack, not really caring if it landed correctly, just happy that she was about to get fed.

Monday 3.10 PM

Rory was just in the middle of pitching stories for her first real article, when he walked in. Oh god. Why him, why here?! She thought to herself. Out of all the rooms, in all of Yale, he has to walk into this one. It seemed however, that she wasn't the only one thinking that.

"Oh no." Doyle interrupted her when he spotted Douche-Bag enter. Rory still didn't know his real name, but 'Douche-Bag' seemed appropriate. "What?" she asked, because while she had every reason to dislike his presence in the news room, she didn't quite get why this would be a problem to Doyle.

"He's back" Doyle said, a little drop of sweat slowly making its way down his temple. The guy spotted Doyle and leisurely made his way over towards the Editor. "Doyle, my friend." He said, while taking Doyle's hand to shake, "You're looking very, very well. How've ya been?" Doyle froze up a little, and it wasn't until the other guy dropped his hand he found the words to answer. "I've been great, Logan. Great to have you back." Oh, so that's his name Rory thought.

And if Logan noticed the way Doyle's voice shook a little, he didn't comment on it. "Yeah well, I stayed away as long as I could, but the Yale Daily News called to me." Doyle nodded. "Oh sure. So, how's everything? How's the family?" he asked, seemingly trying to make small talk.

"Everything's fine. The family's the family…" he looked around the newsroom for a second, "ah my desk. Beautiful." He went to sit down, immediately putting his feet on the desk. Rory silently huffed. That is no way to act in a newsroom. "Uhm, you know Logan, I didn't know exactly when you were coming back, and I gave out the beats." Doyle looked a little scared, as if he was expecting to get crucified just because he hadn't saved a beat for Logan.

"That's fine Doyle. I'll take whatever you've got left." He said, shrugging and snuggling more comfortably in the chair. Doyle cleared his throat. "Actually,… there's non left." The Editor looked like he was waiting for the bomb to drop, but it never came. "Perfect. Just the one I wanted. Relax Doyle. I'm just here for the pretty picture in my father's head. I'm not going to be any trouble at all." That statement made Doyle sputter, and Rory snort. Not going to be any trouble? That guy had trouble written all over him.

"Oh Logan, Please. You, trouble? Stop. We're just glad to have you here." Logan narrowed his eyes at Doyle. He really hated it when people sucked up to him in order to get to his father. That, he could really do without. "Careful, boy, " he said, the lightness gone from his voice for a second "you might hurt yourself kid. Better get back to work, right boss." At that moment he looked across the room and saw Rory sitting at her desk. "Rory, nice to see you." He said to her with a little nod of his head.

Doyle stood there for a second, looking back and forth between Logan and Rory, before stalking over to her desk. "You know Logan? How do you know Logan?" he whispered frantically. Probably worried, thinking he might have said something bad about Logan that might get back to him. Or his father. "No, I don't." she said. After all, a 5 second conversation at the quad and a 45 minute argument, does not an acquaintance make. "I met him. A friend introduced us." Best to leave the part about the blind date out, before Doyle suffered a stroke or something.

"So you're not friends?" he asked hopefully. "No, definitely not friends." She saw Doyle visibly relaxing. And the next thing Rory knew, she was introduced to 'work-place gossip'. "That guy's a real piece of work. He took last year off with a bunch of his friends. He was going to said Daddy's yacht around…." He paused for dramatic effect, "'till he sank it."

Rory's eyebrows shot up. "He sunk his father's yacht?" She was wondering if she should amend her view of him back to being a dumb-ass. "Right off of Fiji. They spent 6 months of gallivanting and partying and God knows what in there 'till Daddy sent one of his planes to bring him back." Rory looked a little disgusted. Rich and entitled, that sums it up I guess. "I'm guessing his father's rich?"

Doyle looked at her like she'd grown two heads. "His father's Mitchum Huntzberger." he told her, in a tone that suggested that she was supposed to have known that. "Mitchum Huntzberger? The newspaper guy?" At that, Doyle raised his eyebrows, because Lord, she did not just refer to Mitchum Huntzberger as that newspaper guy. "The newspaper magnet. The man owns at least twelve different papers. I've spent two years kissing Logan's butt." He shivered at the thought of the past years. "Don't you mean ass?" Rory quipped, trying to get Doyle out of his funk.

"Whatever" he said without looking at her. "Guess it's time to pucker up again. Man , I hate those kind of guys." Rory wasn't totally following anymore, her mind back to her stories. She absentmindedly asked "What kind of guys?"

"Those privileged, white males." Rory's head shot up again. "Doyle… You're a privileged white male." Doyle looked at her with murderous intent. "Well! He's way more privileged. And way more whiter. Why am I talking to you?" he turns to the next desk over, "Meg, why am I talking to Gilmore?"

Before Rory could argue about her stories, Doyle had already walked away. She glanced at Logan, who was now wearing an old-press style fedora. When he caught her looking, he smiled wide and picked up his phone. "Hello? City desk? Smitty here, take this down. I got a hot scoop on a tall blonde and I gotta put it to bed on the double!" He hangs up the phone and winks at Rory, before putting the hat over his eyes to take a nap.

Wednesday 10.25 AM

Rory's piracy article was a failure. It didn't 'have it'. But her new story, that was something entirely different. If she could get Logan to talk to her about it. It was a long shot, but if she remembered the movie 'the Skulls' correctly (and she did, because her mother and she had watched it over a million times, Joshua Jackson is really nice to look at.) the kind of clubs she was going to write about, they took legacy very seriously.

And the article she'd found stating that Elias Huntzberger was in the group, well, she couldn't imagine his grandson not being in it. Probably running the joint. She already had some stuff about the gorilla masks and the formal wear. She had their catchphrase, which was pretty cool, even if she loath to admit it. 'In Omnia Paratus.' It felt like the kind of thing a secret society would say. And it flowed really well. And if Logan didn't want to talk, maybe she'd follow him around a bit. She wondered if she should buy herself a light brown trench coat and a hat. Following.. no that sounded to stalkerish… shadowing (much better) somebody was always way cooler in a trench coat.

Right at that time, her target walked by, surrounded by his goons. "Hey, Huntzberger!" she yelled. "Hey, Gilmore! I see somebody finally learned my name. Not that I'm offended by the lack of etiquette shown by you, but still. You waiting for me?" he asked, that smirk firmly in place on his face. "Could be" Rory answered coyly. "Wow. I'm flattered." He stopped walking and turned towards her. "Your prerogative." He chuckled. "You here on business or pleasure?"

Rory cocked her head to the side a littleand snorted. "I just thought maybe I'd give you a chance to respond to my article.?" Now it was Logan's turn to cock his head. "What article?" he asked, with only a slight hint of interest that bled form his tone. "The one I'm writing about the life and death brigade." Rory stated matter of factly. Ha, take that. Logan shook his head. "I don't really know what you are talking about."

Evasive maneuvers? Check. But two can play that game, buddy. "You don't? Huh, I thought you would. It's a club. One of these super-secret, super-exclusive clubs here at Yale. Membership spans a thousand centuries, secret handshakes and secret sayings. And a lot of running around in circles. In your underwear, that kind of thing." None of the things Rory said seemed to phase Logan even the slightest. He just shrugged and said, "Sounds pretty secret." in a very sarcastic tone.

"Yeah, anyhow. I'm sort of doing an expose on this on particular club and I figured, since you're in it, maybe you'd like to have your point of view included." Still no visible reaction from Logan. Boy, he's good Rory thought. "I'm in it." Logan stated, like it didn't really matter if he confirmed or not. "Well, aren't you?" she asked him, a slight frown beginning to form.

"Well, Ace. If I were to confirm that statement, it would pretty much negate the 'secret' part of 'secret club' right? So, I don't really know where you thought this line of questioning was going. Also, While I've certainly did things dressed only in my underwear, I must say, I've yet to run around in circles whiles only wearing that. At least, as far as I'm aware. Maybe I should check with Colin or Finn. I'll get back to you on that one." That smirk was in place again, like he enjoyed messing with her. Truthfully, he kind of did.

"Well, okay. It would have been nice if you were, but I've got plenty of stuff without your statement. I'm sorry to have bothered you." As she started to walk away, he said "You have plenty without me, huh?" She turned back around. "Yeah. I've got the formal wear, the girl in the gorilla mask. In Omnia paratus – which is a very fancy catchphrase – the black SUV. And about a dozen other little things. An interview with a member would have been great, but I don't really need it." She shrugged.

"Great." He said. "Yep. Plus, I'm completely onto your routine now." Logan grinned at that. "Wow, look at that. My very own stalker. I've always wanted one of those." Rory shook her head. "No, not a stalker. Think of me as your shadow. I figure I'll just track you and you'll lead me to your den of debauchery. It's just a matter of time. Granted, it would have been easier if you'd just talked to me now, but the other way works as well. "

"The other way…" he said to her, in a definite voice. "Yes." She confirmed. "You tracking me." He asked, amusement clear in his voice. "Yes." Rory confirmed again. "Following my every move?" He was starting to enjoy this even more. Bantering over not-dinner, back and forth in front of the gate to Berkley. It was fun, exciting, exhilarating even. An LDB event in and of its own, but without the copious amounts of alcohol. "Yeah." Rory nodded. Is he really that dense? She wondered. He was quiet for a second, before he said "I pick that way." Rory's jaw dropped. "Okay, but…" he interrupted her. "We can start right now, if you want. I'm heading back to my room. I can keep the window open, in case you feel the need to sneak in and track me from the inside." He smiled again. "Thanks for the info." Rory grumbled while hiking her bag higher up her shoulder.

"Absolutely." He turned to walk away. "And hey, good luck with that article. Sound like one hell of a scoop." Rory stared at him for a second. Then she remembered him calling her 'Ace'. "Hey!" she yelled after him. "What's that 'Ace' thing all about?" He didn't answer her, but she could hear him laughing.

Thursday 3.00 PM

Rory's sitting at her desk in the news room when he walks in the next day. She sees him sitting down at his computer and type something. The 'ding' of her computer startles her a little, and when she looks at her screen she sees a new instant message.

L: Hey Ace, I've got a proposition for you.

Rory sighs, but replays anyway. This better be good.

R: Shoot.

L: I'll help you with your article. Get you the inside scoop. Just agree to a few contitions.

R: What conditions?

L: The first condition is that you have to agree before you know the conditions.

Rory stares at the cursor for a second, watching it blink in and out and back in.

L: what do you say Ace? You in or out?

She only has to think about it for a spit second, before typing "I'm in." When she looks up, Logan is nowhere to be seen.

So? What'd you guys think?