Several thoughts ran through Puck's head at once. First of all, the way she landed on her right hand as Azimio shoved her to the ground was pretty brutal. That was going to hurt in the morning. Then he made a mental note to learn whatever roundhouse punch Azimio had used, because it was pretty damn effective. But then the non-asshole thoughts started coming to him, and he realized, Azimio just hit a girl! We don't hit girls around here!

"Hey!" he found himself yelling. Azimio was lunging toward her, ready to strike again. Puck threw himself at Azimio, grabbing his shoulders and wrenching him into the nearest wall of lockers.

"What do you think you're doing? You just hit a girl, punk!" he bellowed. He swung his fist, aiming for Azimio's despicable face, but Azimio dodged out of the way just in time and staggered a few steps down the hallway.

"I'll be back!" he yelled at the girl, who looked like she was about to pass out from shock. "Sometime when you haven't got some delinquent here to defend you!" He turned on his heel and headed down the hallway.

"Who you callin' delinquent, punk?" Puck hollered after him, but he was already gone. He punched a locker just to vent some of his anger, but only ended up hurting his fist.

"Well handled, Puckerman," Santana sneered. "Should have let Auntie Snix take care of that one."

She turned to Kurt, who by this time had managed to procure a handkerchief, dry and undamaged by the slushie, from his breast pocket and was gingerly dabbing his face with it.

"Come on, sister," she sighed. "Let's go to the ladies' room and get you cleaned up."

Santana took a rather shell-shocked Kurt by the shoulders and steered him away down the hall towards the restrooms.

Puck turned his attention back towards the girl, who had now propped herself up on her elbow with a pained expression on her face. He rushed to her side and knelt down, placing a hand gingerly on her shoulder.

"All you all right?" he asked, trying to speak calmly. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him from hitting you. We should report this to Principal Figgins for sure, he'll get that kid finally locked up in juvie where he belongs."

The girl looked him right in the eye. Her own eyes were mostly obscured by her bangs, but they were shooting lasers at him. He knew that look, his teachers used it all the time. She was sending him mental "You're stupid" messages.

"We are not reporting this," she hissed. She cast around to make sure no one was watching, but there was really no need. 3:30 on a Friday? Practically everyone would already by drunk by now. "Just help me get up. Then you can go away and forget this ever happened."

"Hold up," said Puck, smiling. "I'm not gonna forget this. We owe you one. That was some serious ass-kicking back there. Too bad that idiot was too stupid to realize he'd been properly taken down by a girl."

Now sitting up fully, the girl jabbed a finger into his chest, glaring even more ferociously.

"Did you hear me? Do not tell anyone about this," she whispered desperately.

"Are you crazy?" exclaimed Puck. "He deserves it!" He stood and put out his hand to help her up, but she ignored it. Instead, she attempted to clamber to her feet by herself, but collapsed on her right leg, wincing.

"Whoa there," said Puck. "Easy does it. If you've got a sprained ankle, we've got to get you to the hospital." He put out his hand again, and this time decided to throw in one of his seductive smirks for good measure. The ladies couldn't resist his seductive smirks.

She scowled at him and crossed her arms.

Well, except for her.

"I don't need to go the hospital. Just help me up so I can get to the nurse's office," she huffed.

Wordlessly, he put out his hand for a third time. Rolling her eyes, she finally took it and he hoisted her to her feet. She hopped a little, almost falling over, but he quickly grabbed her waist to steady her and she hooked her arm around his shoulder to keep her balance. They set off slowly down the hallway towards the nurse's office, pausing every other step as she transferred weight to her left leg. As they walked, the top of her head just brushing the side of his neck, Puck suddenly realized how good she smelled – sweet like vanilla and spicy like pine trees. He could feel the fingers on her left hand digging into his shoulder, and he imagined each muscle perfectly poised from the years she must have spent practicing her violin. Her waist was warm and moved at his touch. He found himself fascinated by such a waist – narrow but soft, unlike the hard, flat Cheerio abs he was so accustomed to. His hand had been around so many waists it was hard to count – Santana's sculpted abdomen, Zizes' fleshy midsection, Quinn's stomach smooth as silk. But none of them felt like this. It seemed to radiate warmth. His hand molded to the soft skin. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling, but he only inhaled more of her scent; cookies and hemlock. It was dizzying.

Puck only noticed they had arrived at the nurse's office when the girl took her arm off his shoulder, trying to turn away.

"Hey, not so fast," said Puck, slipping his hand from her waist and resting it on her shoulder. It was just as warm. "You need a witness." He rapped the door of the office three times before opening it slowly. But before he could even open his mouth, the girl slid into the office on her good foot and began to speak.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Blumenthal?" she inquired matter-of-factly. "I was about to go to Chemistry Club on the 2nd floor, but I stepped on the first stair a little funny and I think I've sprained my ankle."

She tossed a look over her shoulder at Puck, who was still standing in the doorway, dazed. She eyed him expectantly.

"Uh, yeah," he found himself saying. "I was passing by and helped her get here, 'cuz, you know, she couldn't really walk…"

As soon as the little white lie left his mouth, he regretted it. But why? He lied all the time! Heck, he lied every time his mom asked him how his day was at school ("It was fine, Mom, really, I got some good grades today"). But this felt different. It might have been because Azimio was a big fat slimeball and needed what was coming to him. But every time he looked at the girl, whom Mrs. Blumenthal was now fussing over, he felt a little wrench in his stomach. He just knew she didn't deserve what Azimio had done to her.