Rory looks over just in time to see Logan literally slinking in, very casually dressed. For whatever reason, she's glad to see him, and even though he looks like he just rolled out of bed in time for Philosophy class, she drags him over to introduce him to the plant ladies. They are delighted to meet the young Huntzberger, but he is very rudely not delighted to meet them, barely mustering up a "hey." Rory tries to cover by reminding him that one of these ladies is the one who said Rory looks like Clara Barton, "which [Rory's] still not sure is a compliment." Aw. The lady -- who talks like that chicken that was in love with Foghorn Leghorn -- assures her that it's a compliment of the highest order. This is all going over like a lead balloon with Logan, who pretty much stands there like a surly teenager and makes Rory do all the small-talking. She asks the ladies to excuse them, and they go to the kitchen, where Logan promptly pours himself a scotch and asks, "So, how long do you think this thing's going to last?" Asshole. Oh, I hate Logan, more in this episode than in any ever before, ever. What is wrong with you, Rory? DAMN. Logan says he's just not in the mood to deal with "these type of people," which is funny, since he is their crown prince. Instead of taking him to task for 1) rolling into her grandmother's house dressed like a schmo; 2) drinking scotch that wasn't put out for guests; and 3) drinking scotch at all, because, please, she suggests that he go to the pool house to wait for her. He leaves, and she discovers that they've run out of coffee. She wigs and whinily yells for someone to make more coffee. This annoys me, because these caterers are there to do exactly that, so the whining is unnecessary. Just go out there and ask them to make some, Rory.