Noah sits with an empty chair beside him. Rachel arrive in a flurry of black hair.

"Can we make this quick? Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are having an incredibly horrendous public break-up on the quad. Again."

Noah looks at her mouth open. "Well, I thought we'd start with pronunciation, if that's okay with you."

"Not the hacking and gagging and spitting part. Please." She makes a disgusted face.

Noah starts looking down. "Okay... then how 'bout we try out some French cuisine. Saturday Night?"

Rachel smiles slowly. "You're asking me out. That's so cute. What's your name again?"

"Puck. No! Noah. Noah that's my name. Yeah." Noah looks a little embarrassed.

Rachel furrows her eyebrows. "Ok...Noah." She shakes her head and takes her opportunity. "You see the thing is, Puck – hm Noah, I'm at the mercy of a particularly hideous breed of loser. My step sister. I can't date until she does."

Noah looks relieved she didn't ask more about "Puck". "Seeems like she could get a date easy enough..."

She fingers a lock of her hair. He looks on, dazzled. "The problem is, she's completely anti-social." "Why?"

"Unsolved mystery. She used to be really popular, captain of the cheerleading squad, the perfect Queen Bee, then it was just like she got sick of it or something."

Noah nods. "That's a shame." She reaches out and touches his arm.

"Gosh, if only we could find Quinn a boyfriend..."

Puck would have say "Fuck it." But he's not Puck anymore. He's Noah, so what he says next is not a surprise. "Let me see what I can do."

Rachel smiles at him and Noah knows he's screwed.

A frog is being torn asunder by several prongs and picks. Mike and Noah go for the spleen.

"You're in school for one day and you ask out the most beautiful girl? Do you have no concept of the high school social code?"

Noah grins away. "I teach her French, get to know her, dazzle her with charm and she falls in love with me."

Mike shakes his head. "Unlikely, but even so, she still can't go out with you. So what's the point?"

Noah motions with his head toward Finn, a few lab tables away. He's wearing biker glasses instead of goggles as he tries to revive his frog.

"What about him?"

Mike looks on confused. "You wanna go out with him?"

The others at the lab table raise their eyebrows

Noah roll his eyes. "No - he could wrangle with the sister."

Mike smiles. Liking the intrigue. "What makes you think he'll do it?"

"He seems like he thrives on danger. I know those types of guys…"

Mike nods. "No kidding. He's a criminal. I heard he lit a state trooper on fire. He just got out of Alcatraz..."

Noah shakes his head with a smile. "I know some people who did worse than that."

"Oh right. New York City … but I'm serious, man, he's whacked. He sold his own liver on the black market so he could buy new speakers."

"Forget his reputation. Do you think we've got a plan or not?"

Mike thinks for a minute. "Did she actually say she'd go out with you?"

"That's what I just said." Puck nods at him with a smile.

Mike processes this. "You know, if you do go out with Rachel, you'd be set. You'd outrank everyone. Strictly A-list. With me by your side."

"I thought you hated those people? And man that's not what I'm about. I know popularity, I lived popularity and that's not for me."

Mike looks at him seriously. "One of this day, when you'll trust me enough, I hope you'll tell me exactly why you're here… and hey - I've gotta have a few clients when I get to Wall Street."

"I told you why I'm here…" Mike gives him a look and Puck stops talking.

"One day. I promise." Mike nods at him.

"So now all we gotta do is talk to him." He points to Finn, who now makes his frog hump another frog, with full-on sound effects.

Noah turns towards Mike. "I'll let you handle that." "What?"

Sam and his pals take turns drawing boobs onto a cafeteria tray with a magic marker.

Mike walks up and sits between them, casual as can be. "Hey."

Sam looks at him confused. "Are you lost?"

"Nope - just came by to chat." "We don't chat."

Mike nods at him. "Well, actually, I thought I'd run an idea by you. You know, just to see if you're interested." "We're not."

He grabs Mike by the side of the head, and proceeds to draw a penis on his cheek with the magic marker. Mike suffers the indignity and speaks undaunted.

"Hear me out. You want Rachel don't you?"

Sam sits back and cackles at his drawing.

"But she can't go out with you because her sister is this insane head case and no one will go out with her right?"

Sam roll his eyes. "Does this conversation have a purpose?"

"So what you need to do is recruit a guy who'll go out with her. Someone who's up for the job."

Mike points to Finn, who makes a disgusted face at his turkey pot pie before he rises and throws it at the garbage can, rather than in it.

"Finn Hudson? I heard he ate a live duck once. Everything but the beak and the feet." "Exactly."

Sam turns to look at Mike. "What's in it for you?"

"Oh, hey, nothin' man. Purely good will on my part."

He rises to leave and turns to the others. "I have a dick on my face, don't I?"

Mike stands at the sink, trying to scrub Sam's artwork off his face as Noah watches.

"You got him involved?"

"Like we had a choice? Besides – when you let the enemy think he's orchestrating the battle, you're in a position of power. We let him pretend he's calling the shots, and while he's busy setting up the plan, you have time to woo Rachel."

Noah grins and Mike puts an arm around him.

"You're one brilliant guy." "I know. And you're an awesome friend so far."

Noah pulls back, noticing other guys filing in.

"Hey - I appreciate compliments as much as the next guy, but it's not gonna do me any good to be known as New Kid Who Embraces Guys In The Bathroom."

Mike pulls back and attempts to posture himself in a manly way for the others, now watching.

Quinn and Santana pick apart their pad thai. Santana is smoking.

"So he has this huge raging fit about Sarah Lawrence and insists that I go to his male-dominated, puking frat boy, number one golf team school. I have no say at all. Who does he think he is? My father?"

Santana shakes her head. "William would never have gone to a state school." "William didn't even go to high school."

"That's never been proven." "Neither has his heterosexuality."

Santana replies with a look of ice. Quinn uses the moment to stub out Santana's cigarette.

"I appreciate your efforts toward a speedy death, but I'm consuming. (pointing at her food) Do you mind?"

"Does it matter?" Quinn continues where she left off before. "If I was Rachel, it would be, "Any school you want, precious. Don't forget your tiara.""

They both look up as Finn enters. He walks up to the counter to place his order. Santana leans toward Quinn with the glow of fresh gossip.

"Tina Cohen told me he was a roadie for Marilyn Manson."

Finn nods at them as he takes his food outside. Quinn rolls her eyes. "Tina Cohen is an idiot."

Finn sits before Miss Pillsbury, eating his Thai food.

"I don't understand, Finn. You haven't done anything asinine this week. Are you not feeling well?"

Finn looks up. "Touch of the flu."

"I'm at a loss, then. What should we talk about? Your year of absence?"

He smiles his charming smile. "How 'bout your sex life?"

She tolerates his comment with her withering glance.

"I don't understand Finn. Two years ago, you were the star-quaterback, you had a lot of friends, and you never got in trouble…"

Finn looks down for a moment. "Maybe I got tired of it. Popularity.(chuckles) What a waste."

"Did something happen? There has to be a reason as to why you're such a fuck-up now."

"Well, you know - there's the prestige of the job title... and the benefits package is pretty good..."

The bell rings.

"Fine. Go do something repugnant and give us something to talk about next week."