"I think I would know if our house is falling down, Rory," Charlie grumbled rolling over in her bed to face her sister, who looked quite worried.
"Mom's foot when through the porch this morning," Rory began to explain, though Charlie never asked, "And so we called Kirk and he said we have termites, and the whole structural integrity of the house it terrible, and it's going to cost like $15,000 to fix."
"So, we have Tuesday and Friday night dinners."
"Charlie!"
"Look, Kirk is probably just being melodramatic," Charlie sighed, pushing herself up so she was sitting, "I'm sure it's not as bad as he's making it seem."
"You don't think our house is gonna fall down?"
"I don't think our house is gonna fall down."
"Mom, is the house gonna fall down?" Lorelai choked on her coffee at Charlie's genuinely panicked face.
"No, no," The woman laughed, "I'm gonna fix it, everything's gonna be fine, Crap Shack's not going anywhere."
"I can pitch in you know," Charlie spoke quietly, "I've been saving up from working at Luke's--"
"That's the dream fund," Lorelai frowned, "For Yale, or New York, or France, or whatever dream you have that hour."
"Crap Shack's more important than Greece."
"It's Greece today?" Lorelai nodded, "I was thinking Scotland, the men wear those funny little skirts—"
"Mom."
"I'm going to figure it out," Her mother sighed, offering a smile, "Now, get to Luke's, you promised him a shift."
↬
"No."
"Just agree with me!"
"You cannot compare The Beatles to anyone— especially not Bowie, they aren't on the same playing field!"
"You're just mad cause I'm right," Dean laughed at Charlie's irritated expression.
