Bushwick. At some point during the last five minutes, St. Gay Of Lima has magically procured a pair of customized arm pillows for both of his roommates, which he now presents to them with appropriate amounts of flourish and flair. Santana's arm pillow has a boob, which delights her to no end, though she does warn him, "If you ever tell anyone about this, I have no ethical problems with Hummelcide." Atta girl. Old Idiot Rachel seems somewhat less enthused with her gift, mainly because she still misses her filthy whore of an ex-boyfriend, and when she expresses her hope that she and he might get back together someday, Santana steps in to shut that bullshit down with a quickness. "I was wrong about Brody being a drug dealer," she admits, "but I was just wrong about what he was selling." "He was a gigolo," she continues, making it very, very clear. "Like, Magic Mike with happy endings, for money!" Interestingly enough, Rachel immediately asks Kurt two very different questions, almost in the same breath: "That's not true, right? You didn't know about that?" There's nothing St. Gay can offer by way of response, so poor Old Idiot Rachel flees, in tears, to her bedroom. "Why'd you have to do that?" he asks Santana. "It was for her own good," Santana duhs, because obviously.
Cut back over to The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, and we've finally -- finally -- hit the best musical number of the evening. Dreamboat Blaine sits alone onstage at the piano, and as a spotlight opens up over his shellacked head, his fingers pick out the first few notes of the only Phil Collins song I've ever liked, "Against All Odds," from the movie of the same name. It's a stripped-down performance that sounds as if it were recorded live on the set, much like this character's second version of "Teenage Dream" back in October, but given all the fancy cuts and the twisty tracking shots and the aerial views of the stage we get during the number, I'm pretty sure the track was prerecorded. They just didn't fuck this one all to hell with the Auto-Tune.
Major portions of it are delivered directly to Lady Lips out in the auditorium seats because Blaine apparently suh-huuuuuuucks with the subterfuge, and Single-T Tina shoots a few knowing looks around because she's not an idiot this week, but by the time that string quartet Blaine recruited for this little presentation starts in with their quiet accompaniment in the background, the focus pulls back in entirely on him as Blaine goes to some deeply personal place for the final few lines of the song. Darren Criss has had quite a few misses this season as the show's thrown more and more of the overall musical burden onto his shoulders, but this performance most certainly is not one of them. Just lovely.