"So­­­Pinocchio, I do recall being promised food just after seven AM this morning… and as of yet, 10:24, my stomach is still empty. Emptier than I can ever remember it ever being before now. And let me tell you… the way to get on a Gilmore's good side… is to feed her. Not to tangle the temptation in front of her face and then pull it away for some sort of sick and twisted entertainment." Rory babbled as the walked along the sidewalk in search of a suitable place to dine. Logan had long since abandoned his arm's place around her shoulders because she had taken to walking while doubled over at the waist to clutch her stomach dramatically.

"Well if you didn't make such a show out of your 'suffering' then maybe it wouldn't be entertainment… really its your own fault Ace." Logan tossed a sideways glace at her and chuckled with amusement.

"Laugh it up, fuzz ball," she growled at him.

"Fuzz ball? That's worse than butt-faced miscreant!" he howled.

"Star Wars," she looked at him in disbelief.

"Leia say it to Hans?" he waggled his eyebrows.

"Hans to Chewy," she replied smugly.

"Oww," Logan stopped walking to reflect that he had just been called a Wookie.

"Good. I hope it hurt. Like my stomach. My pathetically empty stomach, which you promised to fill! I can barely walk, Chewy!" she whimpered sadly.

Suddenly a weird half-strangled gargling sound erupted from Logan's throat and he hauled her over his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?" Rory laughed as he started to carry her down the street caveman style.

"Being the perfect gentle-Wookie," he responded with his characteristic smirk, "My lady can't walk, I walk for m'lady! Or, translated into Wookie: Wrrrrrraaaaaaaah." He made the strange gargled sound again.

Logan ended carrying for three blocks because after his superb translation, Rory wasn't able to hold herself up, let alone walk, because she was collapsing with laughter. Finally, when Rory was able to control herself, Logan set her down.

"I don't want to walk anymore," she whined. Logan stared at her in disbelief. However, as he opened up his mouth to respond to her unjustified complaint, his eyes drifted over her shoulder to rest on the words painted on the window of the shop they stood beside: "McA's." He spun her around to face the cozy-looking restaurant.

"I think it's kismet," he smiled at her. When he was met with a quizzical look he elaborated, "McA's… Mac A's… Mac Ace… MAC (Master and Commander) Ace…"

"I guess we have no choice then. We dine here." Rory grabbed the hand that he had left on her shoulder after the spin and held it there as she paraded him through the double doors and into the eatery.