Michel: All of the woodwork was hand-carved by a union soldier that the owner, Mrs. Tinley, took pity on and nursed back to health. He got better, went off, slaughtered a few dozen Confederate soldiers, came back, and made the stairs. Nice story, yes? Yes, your American history is all over this inn. Oh, look, a deer. I think I know that little guy. He was here for breakfast this morning. Creep up quietly. Take a better look. [sighs] I have these people in the palm of my hand. Travel agents are so easy. Are the horses washed?
Lorelai: They're washed.
Michel: Because I'm not bringing them out there to be disgusted by smelly horses.
Lorelai: Trust me. They've been hosed down with new-car scent. They're great.
Michel: Okay, let's see. They saw the deer, we released the doves, I've got the Stevens boy whitewashing the fence in short pants and a straw hat.
Lorelai: No one can manufacture a quaint, small-town moment like you, Michel. Ooh, travel agents coming back.
Michel: Adorable, yes? Okay, let me show you the upstairs, the bedrooms. Oh, what is that delicious scent? Why, I bet our amazing chef, Sookie St. James, is experimenting with her cookie recipe again. Why don't we sneak into the kitchen and see if we can convince her to give us a taste? Okay? Follow me.