Elsewhere, that astonishingly Jewfro'd nerd from the Celibacy Club's just begun an interview with the Rachel in question for the school's newspaper, and of course that astonishingly Jewfro'd nerd from the Celibacy Club's on the school newspaper. Of course. "How does it feel to be just a sophomore and get the lead in the school musical?" he opens. As Rachel blathers on about rare stars shining brightly, or some such self-involved garbage, J-Fro's eyes slowly drift down towards her chestical area, and he suddenly snaps off the tape recorder to demand, "Show me your bra!" "You mean the one I'm wearing?" Rachel frowns, clearly incredulous at the turn this interview's taken. "Quid pro quo," J-Fro counters. "You want a good review, show me your over-the-shoulder boulder holder!" I'd remark on that, but it would be desperately hypocritical of me to do so, as I ratchet up the letter grades on these episodes with each and every entirely gratuitous display of wanton Puckerman shirtlessness, so I think I'll keep my mouth shut. Rachel, however, is appalled, and protests, "You can't do that! My performance will stand on its own, and besides, no one reads the school paper, anyway!" "Oh, but I'll post my scathing review online!" J-Fro all but cackles, nefariously. "You'll be finished on the high school stage! Now get those sweater puppies out of their cashmere cage!" Rachel leaps to her feet in disgust just as Sandy Ryerson flutters into the room, all daring peach-on-peach ensemble and apologies for being late, as his Vespa had a flat. J-Fro hastily gathers his things to leave, loudly assuring Sandy he'll not be needed for the final article before directing the following at Rachel: "Do the right thing -- all the great actresses take their clothes off." "Well, I have no problem with nudity!" Sandy overshares, and escorts J-Fro from the room with, "Let me tell you about my planned production of Equus! Have you ever hung out at a stable?" Hee.
Left alone, Rachel draws her hair away from her sweater so she might examine her rack, as one does, and so of course is instantly mortified when Frankenteen lumbers into the classroom to offer her a chipper, "Hey! What are you doing?" Rachel swiftly drops her hair back into place and babbles something about finally receiving the star treatment she never got from the Glee Club and how she's certain she's chosen the right path before finishing with, "I'm never going back to Glee -- it's clear my talent is too big for an ensemble." Finn -- quite cannily for one so special, I should note -- deploys a little reverse psychology on her delicate derriere by shrugging, "Not gonna get an argument from me -- you're, like, the most talented person I know. Even more than that guy at the mall who can juggle chainsaws." He claims he just wanted to let her know that if she ever needs someone to run lines with, he'll be there for her. Rachel's speechless for a moment, and looks like she's inches away from leaping on top of him to smother him with kisses and such, but she somehow manages to pull herself together and admit, "There is a lot of dialogue." Finn, knowing the effect he's having on her, seductively suggests they ensconce themselves somewhere quiet, "with low lighting," and...you know. Rachel quivers. Finn offers her a secret little smile and a twinkle from his eye before leaving her with a studiously casual, "Let me know." The instant he's turned his back on her, though, his face falls as if he's wondering what the hell he's getting himself into, and he misses Rachel's tiny, hopeful wave goodbye.