Setting a table is exact. It's an art, almost. And Emma Pillsbury takes pride in setting tables with precision, with just the right amount of perfection. Presentation is everything; presentation can make or break a meal, just like it can make or break a relationship. And Emma has experience in first impressions; she's never cooked for Will before, but she's bound and determined that he is going to feel lucky when he comes home tonight.
She may not be able to take control of her body just yet, but she's definitely got control over this meal, and this night. It's going to be so wonderful; thinking about his face makes a delighted smile spread across hers. She smoothes down her red dress; adjusts the bow meticulously, and sets down the last knife into place. There.
"There," she whispers, and smiles again, as delighted in her efforts as a kindergartener would be with her first piece of artworks. Delighted, that is, until she hears Will's door click and the traditional squawk of the hinges sound on the silent air.
When Terri Schuester appears in the doorway, Emma's heart actually skips a beat. It's her stance. It's the way she casually hooks her finger over the strap of her bag; the feigned innocence of her widened blue eyes.
"Emma!" Her exclamation, tinkling like silver bells, falls uncomfortably on the tense air of the room. "Well, what a surprise. You know, I suppose I could ask you how you got into the house, but I assume that you wouldn't have broken in. Then again, you have proven to be a bit . . . non-kosher . . . before."
Emma swallows, feeling a dry spot tickling the back of her throat. When she speaks, her voice is harsher, more heavily-accented, but the undertone is just as firm and sickly sweet as Terri's.
"Absolutely not. In fact, I'm here with full permission from Will - though I am wondering why you're here," says Emma, circling the table, adjusting a few pieces of silverware. "I was under the impression that you didn't live here anymore, Terri."
Terri's eyes harden and behind the gaze, there's almost a desperation - almost a gleaming that Emma could swear was tears. "I'm here to pick up the rest of my Bruckheimer collection."
Emma nods, refusing to meet Terri's eyes. "Hmm. Well, I'm making Will a nice dinner to come home to. After his long day." Her gaze flies up suddenly, meets Terri's head-on. "So, I'd make it quick. I'd appreciate it if you were out by the time he gets home."
Her voice is cold, brisk; Terri's face twists in surprise. If Emma wasn't sure that Terri is unable to see any humour in any situation, she'd swear that Terri was fighting a mad desire to laugh.
Terri stalks over to the living room, grabs a DVD off the top of the entertainment unit. "Whose is this?" Her voice snaps out on the air, but Emma stands her ground.
"Oh, that? I brought that over," she replies airily, and stalks over to Terri, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. In one smooth movement, she's plucked it from Terri's grasp, turning on her heel and going back to the table.
The air fairly crackles between them as Terri's mouth drops open. However, as soon as Emma arrives back beside the table, she's composed again. When she speaks, her voice is sickly, saccharinely sweet.
"Emma. Listen here, sweetheart." Terri's leaning forward, showing her impressive cleavage and sternum off under the loose turquoise shirt she's chosen for this little adventure. Despite Emma's resolve to stand her ground, she finds her eyes travelling almost in fascination to the expanse of tanned skin and swell of lightly freckled breast on display.
"You may think you've won this little . . . game, but I'll tell you this. Will may be infatuated with you now, but he's absent-minded. What I mean by that?" she clarifies, her voice rising at the end of her sentence, "is that my husband will go out to the market for milk and come back with a pack of gum."
Terri's blonde hair spills over her shoulders, illuminating the intensity of her blue eyes, which never leave Emma's. "And your little dinner for him is definitely sweet, but it takes a lot more than that to keep Will Schuester's attention."
"What . . . what do you mean?" Emma manages, her eyes locked on Terri's, her hands clenching around a piece of Will and Terri's wedding silverware, the cold silver digging into the flesh of her hands. Terri takes a step closer, her three-inch heels clacking on the floor, her hands clenched around her purse strap.
"What I mean is that this little gesture is cute. Real . . . cute. But listen to me, Emma; Will is a man. A silly, dense, absentminded man. And men only respond to one thing."
Emma finds herself staring right into Terri's eyes as the woman stops right in front of her, her gaze level with Emma's.
She knows the answer, but asks anyway, reaching for the tone that had Terri stalking into the living room. "What would that be?"
Terri moves quickly, like a snake. "This." With that, she kisses Emma, full on the lips.
Terri's lips are soft, commanding; they lock onto Emma's with an intensity that Emma doesn't think she's ever even imagined before. Terri's hand comes up to support the small of Emma's back; her left hand tangles in the softness of Emma's curls. And despite herself, Emma feels her own hands locking onto Terri's shoulders, weaving in and out of her long blonde hair, her mouth seeking more from Terri, almost without Emma commanding it to.
Terri thrusts her tongue into Emma's mouth; her mouth slants hungrily over Emma's in a way that Will's has never done. Terri's hands move from Emma's hair to her back and then to her bottom, finding their way under Emma's red dress to explore the contours of her lacy bikini-cut panties. And when Terri finally breaks the kiss, she instinctively leaves a hand on Emma's back when the red-haired woman's knees begin to tremble of their own accord.
Terri tosses her hair, her lips ruby-red from her ministrations, and shoots Emma a triumphant smile.
"You ready for that, sweetie?"
Emma's knees tremble so hard that she almost falls right there on the hardwood. She manages to pull out a dining chair just in time. Terri comes up to her, her hair falling over her shoulders as she leans over to drive the point home to Emma, and like a shot, Emma slaps her face, watching in horror as Terri's cheek reddens at the point of the strike.
Instead of slapping her back, though, Terri's eyes darken suggestively, and her mouth turns up into a very odd, very lustful smile.
"On second thought, maybe you're not such a pussy, after all. Hmm."
She turns then, clacking out of the apartment, leaving nothing but the astringent, sharp scent of whatever cheap perfume she likes to wear wreathed around Emma. In the hallway, the door slams unnecessarily loudly against the jamb.
Emma looks down at her table setting and her lower lip begins to tremble uncontrollably before she loses it completely over the silverware and pretty flowered plates she was so happy with not an hour before.
When she finishes crying, she straightens up, smoothes down her dress, marches into the bathroom and combs her hair, washes her face and reapplies her makeup.
First impressions, after all, are everything.