Rachel tells herself that throwing herself back into work isn't falling back on old habits. Work wasn't simply the way Matt thinks it is. Sure these kids are a distraction, but they're so much more than that. These teenagers reminded her of herself back in high school, so eager and naïve and just waiting to dip their feet in untested waters.

She smiles briefly at the boy who had just sung his audition piece, wondered what made him want to be the person who he thinks he wants to become. Is it for himself? Maybe for his parents, to make them proud? Was it too much to hope that he used gold stars as a metaphor too?

'God, how many more of these do we have today?' Puck mumbles beside her and Rachel shoots him a sharp look.

'Really Noah, you could at least pretend that you're vaguely interested in this process,' she says through the side of her mouth.

'Okay, that kid David wasn't half bad. Dude reworked that Mariah Carey song into something that didn't make my fucking ears bleed,' Puck admits grudgingly. 'But shit, most of these guys should just invest in autotune.'

Rachel opens her mouth but stops when Puck fixes her with a raised eyebrow.

'And don't even pretend you aren't thinking the same thing. You're getting that twitch over your right eyebrow the same way you did back in the day when someone screwed up a note and you were dying to lay into them.'

She can't help but gape at him a little, remembering the words she had spoken to him before filming that disastrous Run Joey Run video.

'Regardless, we are here as professionals,' Rachel recovers and neatly puts a star in the top corner of David's application. She had seen enough potential for him to be put in the consideration pile. Glancing at the thin stack, and then the rather more weighty rejection pile, Rachel wonders if they will ever get enough talent for her to nurture.

I killed him.

Her own words knife through her and Rachel pushes them away, the same way she's been doing since she uttered them to Matt a few days ago. Quinn's been calling often but Rachel's been too much of a coward to answer any of her voicemails. She can hear the forced casualness buried in Quinn's voice and a part of her wants to tell her that she's fine, she's okay. But that would be a lie and Rachel's sick of lying about how she is. So she's taking the coward's way out and just ignoring a good friend whose only crime was to care about her.

'Berry? Hello?' Puck's sharp tap on the shoulder makes her blink.

'What?' It comes out more harsh than she means it to be but Puck doesn't seem to be offended.

'Just saying its chow time. Let's go,' Puck says, slapping his hands together and rubbing them together eagerly in anticipation. 'And don't even think about punking out Berry. I had to sit through your fucking powerpoint presentation last night-'

'Which you interrupted incessantly with crude and vulgar comments,' Rachel reminds him.

'-so the least you can do is buy me something deep fried. C'mon. There's this place in Brooklyn I've been wanting to try,' Puck responds, continuing on as if she hadn't said anything. Rachel wants to resist but eventually decides that another lunch hour cooped up in her office, with Jeremy's picture staring back at her like a condemnation…well, it doesn't sound at all appealing.

She gets into the car, allows Puck to drive them over to Brooklyn. She watches absently at a woman walking alongside a man, notices the way their shoulders brush against each other with every step they took. They aren't holding hands. Perhaps two people infatuated with each other, unsure if the other felt the same way? For a moment she saw a small brunette in a military grey pea coat and a tall man with a camera slung around his neck. She blinked and they were gone.

It was only when the car coasted to a stop did she realize where they were.

'The Chip Shop?' She murmurs, spots the Union Jack fluttering proudly outside. Her chest squeezes.

'I thought you'd like a little piece of London. Make you remember the good times,' Puck announces, sounding unsure of himself. He's rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding her gaze like the plague. Rachel feels her features soften and she gives him a small smile, reaches out and squeezes his fingers quickly before walking ahead.

Puck hasn't been walking on eggshells around her as much as the others. The first time she had seen him after the incident (as she likes to call it in her head) he'd been noticeably more careful. She'd hated it, could see that he was still carrying around a bit of guilt, blaming himself. A part of her did want to find fault with him, but the larger part knew that it wasn't productive to blame everyone but herself.

She sighed through her nose and Puck watches her cautiously, seeing the smile before dimming. He had contemplated choosing somewhere else but something had gone between Rutherford and her after the GP. Puck wasn't as dumb as people thought he was. He noticed shit. Like the way Mike and Matt were suddenly clucking around her like mother hens, the way Rachel seemed to brush off their concern like it was nothing. Puck normally would have asked what was up, but considering the last time he'd opened his mouth…well he wasn't going for another epic fail again.

But shit, it kind of sucks seeing Rachel moping around. Quinn was right. This new Rachel scared him simply because it was like she only had enough energy to pretend to be herself. Puck didn't consider himself an expert on Rachel Berry. Far from it. Sure they'd hooked up for a week back in the good ol' days. Yeah, okay, he'd picked glee over football for her. But other than that they had always just kind of co-existed, like two boats passing each other by but never really getting close enough to breach the hull. Plus there was the fact that Puck knew jack about her life down in the Big Apple, or her time in London with Jeremy.

He catches sight of the necklace as she bends slightly to slide into the booth opposite him, sees the light reflect off the rings swinging together. He wants to stare at it a little longer when he sees script etched along the inside of the bands, but Rachel's blocked them from his view by opening up the menu.

Puck thinks about saying something about the rings but then decides to keep lunch light-hearted and angst-free.

'Noah, this is a heart attack on a plate!' Rachel hisses through her teeth after a moment, forcing a half-smile when the guy with the pierced ears looks their way.

'Look they have like salad and shit. I remember you don't eat anything with a face.'

'I decided a few years ago to incorporate meat into my diet,' Rachel guiltily admits.

'Really?' Puck looks like he doesn't believe her.

'Well I was on limited funds and the circumstances were dire.'

'Dude, you thought it tasted like fucking heaven didn't you?'

'I believe I'll try the Wild Mushroom Mac,' Rachel doesn't answer his question and Puck smirks.

'You have to have something deep fried.'

'Absolutely not. Do you have any idea what that would do to my vocal cords?'

'Your on a fucking sabbatical,' Puck points out dryly. 'The only reason you're going to make my ears bleed is when you're telling those kids that they suck.'

'Why would I have to when you so eloquently cut down their dreams yourself?' Rachel shot back. 'You didn't have to make that girl cry.'

'Girl made cats jumping off the Empire State Building sound stellar. I'm not going to coddle them unless I know their worth my time.'

'Really Noah-'

'Okay new rule,' Puck interrupts, twirling his finger around as Rachel snaps her jaw shut. 'No shop talk outside of the studio. If I'm going to tolerate you, that's the only way I'm going to do it,' he says gruffly and misses the way Rachel's eyes crinkle at the corners.

'And also you're already smokin' hot. Having a fried candy bar won't make me want to look at your ass any less,' Puck leered and spots the twin blooms of colour on her cheeks that Rachel doesn't want him too.

After they had put in their order – with Rachel relinquishing and getting a deep fried plate of Reese Pieces – Puck drums his fingers against the table as Rachel sweeps her gaze around the quaint English shop.

'You know this almost reminds me of home,' she finally says and Puck swallows at the last word.

'Yeah?'

'Don't get me wrong. I absolutely detested the cold at first. But we were both just so happy you know?' She steals a quick look at him before focusing on the framed vinyl record hung up on the wall.

'So you met Jeremy there?' The question is out before he can stop himself, and he waits to see if Rachel will explode, keel over or burst into tears. She does neither, a soft weary smile tugging at her lips as she twists the paper napkin holding the cutlery.

'I met him fresh out of Julliard. I was at a party and barely spoke to him but he got my number off a mutual friend. He was very persistent.' A whimsical expression comes over her face. 'When I got the offer to star in London, I took it and Jeremy followed. He liked capturing moments, history, and he said there was no better place to go than Europe.'

So the photograph on her desk was taken by Jeremy then.

'He must have really loved you then,' Puck ventures and Rachel stiffens and stops playing with the napkin, smoothes the corner over.

'Just not enough,' she answers and it's practically an open invitation.

The food comes just before he can walk through that door, though, and soon Rachel is describing the light and shine of being on stage. All Puck can do is listen to her, because right now? There's some of the old Rachel coming back.