Sorry if this one is hard to keep up with. I'm trying to make sure I get the snappy conversation thing down pat. And please, please, please review because I'm not sure if people are liking this or not...
"Lorelai..."
"Yes, Mom?"
"You're telling me that you can't go out with my friend's son again because, out of the goodness of your heart, you are currently dating the homeless man that you met yesterday."
"Yes, Mom, that is what I'm telling you."
"Lorelai!"
"Yes, Mom?"
"Stop being childish."
"Yes, Mom."
"What is this homeless man's name?"
"... Bill."
"Bill the Homeless Man. How original."
"I thought so."
"What are the plans for your date with him tonight?"
"Well, first, just to break the ice, he's going to take me to where he keeps his trolley. Then, I was thinking that maybe we could find a nice, romantic soup kitchen nearby. And then, to finish the night off, we'll go back to my place because his alley might be a little uncomfortable."
"Uncomfortable for what, exactly?"
"Mom! Must I really go into details here? I'm at work!"
"You're going to sleep with the homeless man."
"His name is Bill."
"You're being ridiculous, Lorelai."
"If dating a homeless man is no longer charitable but deserving of ridicule, someone definately forgot to fill me in."
"Will your new relationship interfere with our Friday night dinners?"
"Of course not. In fact, Rory and I have a guest coming with us this week."
"You are not bringing a homeless man into my house, Lorelai."
"But, Mom! He's given his solemn word not to even think of stealing anything!"
"Lorelai."
"It's not Bill. It's someone else."
"You're not going to tell me?"
"No."
Emily sighed, "Goodbye, Lorelai."
"Bye, Mom," Lorelai grinned before setting the phone back down on the hook.
"That was your mother?" Michel inquired airily, not looking up as he sifted through paperwork.
"No. Oprah just wanted to know if I could make an appearance on the show this week. Her ratings are low, that sort of thing," Lorelai sighed as though burdened.
Michel ignored her sarcasm and continued about her mother, "Why didn't you tell her that you are bringing her brother-in-law's illegitimate, movie star daughter to dinner?"
"Oh, you know. Didn't really come up," Lorelai shrugged distractedly as some guests approached.
Michel smirked knowingly.
(Back at the Gilmore house...)
Marie stumbled into the kitchen, half asleep and rubbing at her eyes grumpily. She pulled her borrowed robe tighter around her against the early morning cold and made her way to the fridge. Opening the door, she frowned, "Pizza... out of date milk... marshmallows... more pizza... TV dinner lasagna... more pizza."
She gave up on the search for actual edible food and instead put the kettle on and pulled down a mug and coffee. She didn't hear the side door open as she crossed back to the fridge and looked for milk that was still drinkable according to the normal world's standards.
"Oh my God..."
Marie's head popped up over the fridge door, eyes wide. She saw a tall boy about her age with dark hair and eyes just as wide as hers.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"I'm Dean. But you're Jessica Starling!" the boy exclaimed.
"Nice observation. But Dean, who exactly are you?"
"I'm Rory's boyfriend. But you're a famous actress!"
"Rory doesn't have a boyfriend...," Marie frowned.
"That's news to me. Why are you in my girlfriend's house?"
"Whether or not Rory is your girlfriend is still yet to be decided. And I'm staying here. Lorelai is my cousin. Why are you sneaking in through the side door?"
"I don't think I should really have to convince you that my girlfriend is my girlfriend. And you're Lorelai's cousin? That makes you... what, my girlfriend's mother's cousin? I came in through here because Lorelai's at work, Rory's asleep and I didn't know anyone else was in. Wait, she didn't tell you about me?"
Marie stared blankly at him, the conversation become more disconnected and confusing as it evolved further. Dean took a breath and it caught in his throat when he focused on something behind her. Marie turned to see Rory standing in the doorway.
"Good morning, people," Rory mumbled, glancing back and forth between the two other people in the kitchen.
"Rory, you didn't tell her about me?" Dean said just as Marie greeted "Good morning" in return.
"Dean, she's only been here a day or so. I just... forgot," Rory muttered, still half asleep. Dean visibly tensed and Marie bit her lip. All realised that the wisest choice of words had not been used.
"You know what? I'm going to go get changed. Nice meeting you, Dean," Marie smiled awkwardly before retreating back to Rory's room.
When she emerged a half hour later, freshly changed, made up and brushed, she could still hear urgent, hushed voices coming from the kitchen. She hesitated before sticking her head into the room.
"I'm going out for a while. I'll see you later," she told Rory and left before she could hear anything being said.
It had snowed over night and the Christmas decorations hung around town looked especially festive, flaunting their light dusting of white. Marie hugged her thick jacket closer around her and tucked her chin into her scarf to help the cause of keeping warm as she tried to recall where Luke's was from the Gilmore house. Straying stares followed her down the street jaws fell agape as she passed but they went successfully unnoticed.
It only took her twenty minutes to complete the four minute walking journey to the diner and it was none to soon; she was hungry and short of her morning caffeine hit. She took a seat at the counter and glanced at the "No Cell Phones" sign in front of her.
"What can I get you?"
She looked up to see Jess standing in front of her, head down looking at his pen poised above his notebook.
"Hi," she greeted happily.
He glanced up and couldn't hide his slight suprise at seeing her. She smiled more and he smirked.
"Hi. Lorelai and Rory haven't killed you yet, I see."
"Yet. They put on 'Demolition Man' last night."
"And you're still here?"
"Wesley Snipes and Sylvester Stallone in one movie is a crime."
"That's what you get with a director like Marco Brambilla," he shrugged.
"He's not really that bad," she countered.
"Oh, yeah. He directed one of yours, right? The one about the horses and the rabid ferrets that you had to save them from."
"Nice synopsis."
"I try."
"Did you see it?" Marie asked curiously
"Do I look like I usually see movies about horses and rabid ferrets?" Jess replied sarcastically.
"More of the 'my neighbor ate my fence and now I'm vulnerable' type of guy, eh?"
"Oh, yeah. Gets me every time," he admitted before pausing, "... You didn't really do a film about your neighbor eating your fence, did you?"
She laughed before reminding him, "Didn't you ask me what you could get me?"
"What, they're not feeding you now?"
"I'm actually kind of thankful for that considering the contents of their fridge but it's more about a certain conversation taking place that I don't really want much to do with," she explained, "And I'll have the... blueberry pancakes and a coffee, two creams, three sugars."
"Dean and Rory? And we're out of blueberries."
She let mock suprise lift her brows, "No blueberries? But that only leaves plan pancakes. And how did you know it was Dean and Rory?"
He shook his head, "They can't always be Stars Hollow's cover couple. And I'm sure you'll make do with the plan pancakes. They're highly underrated."
"Do I sense bitterness about the happy couple?" she inquired lightly, nodding to signal that she would settle for the plan pancakes.
"Why would I be bitter?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
"Why would I tell you if I was bitter?"
"Do you always answer questions with questions?" Marie asked
"Do you?" Jess shot back.
"No. See?" she smiled.
"Aren't we counting 'See?' as a question?" he cocked a brow.
"I don't know. Who came up with the rules?"
"So, now this is a game?"
"You said it," she shrugged.
"And you just lost," he smirked, "I'll be back with your pancakes."
"And coffee!" Marie called after him. She smiled at Luke as he approached. He was about to greet her when he paused, looking at the man that, until now, had gone unnoticed while sitting a few stools away from Marie, harmlessly reading a newspaper.
"Kirk, what are you doing at the counter?" Luke asked him.
"I am a customer, Luke. Customers have the right to sit wherever they please in the diner," Kirk replied, not looking up from his newspaper.
"But you never sit at the counter. You always sit at the table two from the furthest right window. You have a fit if someone is sitting at your table when you come in," Luke reminded him incredulously.
"I have found that change is good for the imagination, Luke. This is only one of the many changes I have made in my life to help my imagination flourish."
Luke and Marie eyed him cautiously.
"And since when has developing your imagination become such a big ordeal?" Luke asked Kirk, playing along.
"Since I became a writer," Kirk sniffed.
"A writer?" Luke asked.
"Well, a script writer to be exact," Kirk elaborated.
Luke nodded knowingly as Kirk turned to Marie, "Any movies in the making at the moment?"
She shook her head and he continued, "I think I may have something here that you may be interested in. It's some of my best work."
He proceeded to reach into his bag and pull out a thick notebook that was filled with loose leaflets. He shoved it into her hand.
"May I suggest that you do not wait too long to give me an answer. I'm handing it out to several other highly esteemed actors at the moment so your place on the cast is only certain if you get in first," Kirk told Marie seriously.
"You usually hand scripts in to producers first," Marie informed him.
"Consider yourself lucky, then," Kirk replied, unphased as he left the diner.
"Oh, yeah, we got lots of talent in Stars Hollow," Luke sighed and Marie giggled as she started to filter through the notebook.
