Chapter One: Type Casting

Rory Gilmore knew she had a type. Actually, she bounced back and forth between two types (if her dating history was anything to go by). The first type was tall and sweet, like Dean Forrester. The second type ran more towards bad boy and brilliant, like Logan. The former was good for her but often lacked the intellectual stimulation needed to keep her interested in the relationship. The latter definitely kept her interest... but also had landed her in legal proceedings and probation. So neither type seemed to be capable of longevity.

When she first saw him, she thought he would fall under the tall and sweet category. He was certainly tall (and handsome, obviously). Then she saw the softy sensitive eyes shining in understanding and sincerity. Oh yeah, definitely her first type. Which was actually more than a little refreshing to find in the cut-throat world of political reporters. That alone made Rory resolve to introduce herself (somehow) as soon as he was done getting his quote.

Then she saw it: proof that the man better fit her second type category. When the sincere-eyes failed to dent the politico's impressive armor, the fellow reporter deftly pick-pocketed the other man's wallet and phone. All without loosing the soft expression.

Wow. Now she really wanted to know more about the guy, but for an entirely different reason. Okay, if she was being honest with herself there was some of the original reasoning still there. But now some of her reporter instincts had gotten piqued, too.

Marching up behind him, Rory opened with, "Its probably locked."

The man startled. "Huh?"

Rory smiled, sweet and completely insincere. "The phone you just stole from the senator's aid? Its probably locked, so what was the point? " And, woo boy, up close he was really, really, reminded her of her first boyfriend. It was a combination of the height, the hair, the bone structure, and -be still my quaking knees- the dimples.

After a beat of polite confusion, the innocent expression fell away. "If he's smart, its locked and encrypted."

"So why bother? Or are you just trying to annoy him for brushing you off?" Rory demanded.

He shrugged and tucked the phone and wallet into a jacket pocket. "I can hack it. Phones are never as secure as people think they are."

"That can't be ethical! Or legal!" Rory exclaimed. "Aren't you worried your company will get sued or- or you'll go to jail?"

He laughed -laughed-at her (and yep, there was a little bit Logan in that disdainful dismissal of any and all repercussions.) "No, not really."

"Wow. You're editor must love you to let you get away with that," she noted, thinking of her own editor's strong and loud reaction if anyone ever pulled a stunt like that on his watch. Well... Huh. If anyone ever got caught pulling a stunt like that, she mentally corrected herself. Not that Rory was the type to try. Or had the skills to pull it off.

Rory shook her head out of her thoughts. "Who do you work for anyway?" She reached out and flipped over his press pass. "Sam J. Jameson, Daily Bugle. Daily Bugle? I've never heard of them."

"Its kind of a family business," Sam admitted with some hesitation. For some reason the admission seemed to make him uncomfortable, almost sheepish even. Seriously? Being caught pick-pocketing didn't make a dent. But admitting you work for daddy's paper made him flinch?

Though she had to admit that the worried-puppy look sure looked good on him. Good enough to overlook some minor theft. What was wrong with her? Uhh... she hadn't had any good sex in months? Rory shook herself out of that line of thought. Yay for higher brain functions! And being a responsible adult. She had chosen to follow her career and she had no regrets.

What were they talking about again?

"You okay?" Sam asked, bending over more than a little to get a better look at Rory's face. "You kinda zoned out on me."

The heat from a blush crept across her cheeks. "Oh, umm, I got lost in thought. I guess."

Sam grinned in amusement (dimples!) "You should be careful when you do that. 'The world as we have created it is but a process of our own thinking.' You might change the world without meaning to," he teased.

"Albert Einstein." Rory recognized the quote. "Brilliant man, obviously, but a terrible writer. I always preferred Criss Jami. 'When a poet digs himself into a hole, he doesn't climb out. He digs deeper, enjoys the scenery, and comes out the other side... enlightened.'"

"Venus in Arms," Sam acknowledged. "But you should really consider Jayson Engay: 'Don't think too deep, it leads to over-thinking and over-thinking leads to problems that didn't even exist in the first place.' Like loosing track of the conversation." His eyes twinkled in gentle amusement.

"Touche." Rory laughed. And Good God, she was falling for this guy. Both her types wrapped up in one yummy package: tall, hot, rule-breaker, well-read, and witty.

Sadly, the moment was broken when another man pushed his way into their conversation. "Sam, did you find your guy?" The intruder wore a cheap suit and a matching Daily Bugle press pass that read 'Dean Robertson'.

Undaunted by his bulk, because everyone was bigger than her, Rory inserted herself between the two men to glare at the newcomer and snap: "Excuse me! We were talking."

Dean looked down for the first time to notice her. His eyes racked up and down without lingering over any of her assets too long. "Oh, my apologies. Miss...?"

"Gilmore. Rory Gilmore. Stamford Eagle Gazette."

"My apologies, Miss Rory Gilmore of the Stamford Eagle Gazette, for interrupting. But me and my partner here have a deadline. You understand. But tell you what, let me make it up to you." Dean clapped Sam hard on the back. "Sammy here will take you out to dinner tonight, my treat. Whaddaya say?"

"Dean!" Sam scolded.

"What? A date with a beautiful woman is just what you need to give you a break from all that research you been doing." Dean smiled at Rory, all teeth and humor. "A guy shouldn't spend too much time buried in his laptop, ya know?"

Dinner actually sounded really good to Rory; she could use a break, too. Still, Dean needed to know his place. She put on a haughty expression modeled directly in her grandmother. "That would be acceptable," she sniffed.

Sam glared at his co-worker before turning back to Rory with a much friendlier expression. I guess its a date."