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❝ in this world; where you're both annoying as fuck. ❞
WHEN MIA Bass entered the diner that Saturday afternoon for the first time in years, she brought an incomprehensible amount of joy with her. Luke rushed out from behind the counter to hug her, and Jorge watched with a smile as Hartley threw herself onto the older woman.
"Oh!" Mia exclaimed, stumbling back a step, "Hartley, darling, I'm not as young as I used to be."
"Sorry," she apologized bashfully.
Luke walked away with a rare amount of cheer—the kind that only Mia could bring—to go make them coffee and continue the seemingly impossible task of fixing his toaster.
"Well, let me get a look at you," Mia requested, taking Hartley's chin in her hand, "ah, you've always taken after your mother. It's a good thing too, because no one wants to see a female Jorge."
"I'm hurt, Mia," Jorge pouted from behind them, a hand over his heart.
"It's good to see you both," Mia sighed, dropping any joking tones from her voice.
"It's good to see you too," Hartley replied, taking a step back from the woman. It was only then that she noticed the Gilmore girls behind Mia, she nodded at them and they nodded back.
"Well, let's sit down," Mia directed, pulling up a chair to the table Jorge already resided at. The table barely fit the five of them, but they made it work.
"So, Mia, how's living in Santa Barbara?" Lorelai spoke up, folding her jacket over the back of her chair.
Mia groaned, "Horrible. Did you know the damn sun shines all the time out there?"
"They've written songs about that," Rory pointed out, slouching in her seat.
"Well, no one told me that's how it was. Half of my wardrobe is obsolete," Mia complained.
"Aw, drag," Lorelai started, her voice lacking any sympathy, "hey, you know that vintagey blue coat?
Mia scoffed, "you're not getting it."
"What about those seventies flare jeans?" Hartley perked up.
"Honey, I haven't worn those in years. They're yours." Mia waved her off, eliciting a cheer from Hartley and a scowl from Lorelai.
