The real life of a pout is not something that can really be mapped, simply because a pout is a mysterious thing. When you’re young, it comes and goes as it pleases, sometimes because you really do have something to pout about and other times simply because you’re paying attention to something else.
Mapping the life of a pout does tend to get easier as you get older. You learn to control the pout, you learn when to use it to obtain the best results. Pout just so at your father and you will get that new toy. Just right at your mother and you get to stay up an extra 10 minutes. And when you use it on your boy friend? Well, the possibilities are endless.
***
Lorelai Victoria Gilmore had learned the power of her pout early on. Extra deserts, pets and new toys when she was young and as she grew? Groundings were forgotten, dead lines extended and cigarettes and concert tickets were purchased by others for her enjoyment. She had a feeling that Christopher was starting to learn what the different pouts meant, that he was starting to be able to tell when she was faking to get her way and when she really was pouting because she was upset.
That didn’t really matter once Rory came long. Christopher would never realise that when she pouted for something now, that it was for diapers or clothes for their daughter. Her parents didn’t care about her pout any more, they only really seemed to care about making sure that Rory was presentable in their world, to try and wash away some of the shame Lorelai had draped over the family.
Rory’s pout began to take shape at the Independence Inn and Lorelai felt a giddy little thrill when she saw this. As soon as Rory was old enough to understand, Lorelai began teaching her how to really use this new, powerful weapon well.
“Put this together with those blue eyes and look out!” she told the little girl enthusiastically before they both shared a giggle.
A few days later, after a long day of cleaning up after a particularly rowdy hockey team, Lorelai came to the little potting shed only to find Rory on a stool, leaning against the sink as she practiced in the mirror. Lorelai quickly put a hand over her mouth, to hold in the laugh as she watched Rory, so seriously practicing her pout in the little cracked mirror.
***
It wasn’t until Lorelai met Luke Danes that she really realised that her pout was starting to take on a life of it’s own.
“You should ask Luke to help,” Sookie often told her when she complained (and pouted) about something that was falling apart in her house.
“He hates me,” Lorelai said, dejectedly, as she stirred her coffee.
“Well, you know how to solve that, don’t you?” the chef asked, rather amused that they were having this conversation, again. Lorelai sighed and didn’t say anything, though Sookie did see a pout starting. “I would imagine that if you stopped calling him Duke, it would help a lot.”
“I know,” she grumbled as she downed the last of her coffee before pushing away from the counter in the kitchen of the inn and heading for the front desk.
Eventually, Lorelai broke down and headed to Luke’s. While that broken window hadn’t been a large problem during the summer, it was becoming one now that the weather was starting to turn cold. She stood out side the diner, watching the late lunch rush slowly empty out as she mentally rehearsed the pout she was going to chose to accompany her apology as well as her request. When the diner was sufficiently empty, she squared her shoulders and marched into the diner.
“Hey Luke?” she asked as she slid up to the counter.
“God, for the last time it’s Luke!” he grumbled, not noticing that she had dropped her running habit of calling him Duke. “Right,” he said after a moment, realising that she had called him Luke. “Coffee?” She nodded and he watched as she grew quiet and played with the rim of her mug. “What’s wrong?” he asked her. She was a little surprised by the concern in his voice. Usually he was cool and distant to just about ev