Santana: Hey Tubs! Can I talk to you for a second?
Rory: Hey, listen here. You can't make fun of Finn anymore.
Santana: Shut your potato hole, I'm here to apologize. [to Finn] Rachel's right, I haven't been fair to you. You're not fat. I should know, I slept with you. I mean, at some point I must have liked that you look like a taco addict who's had one too many back alley liposuctions.
Rory: Whoa.
Santana: Please stick a sock in it or ship yourself back to Scotland. I'm trying to apologize to Lumps The Clown. I am sorry, Finn. I mean, really, I'm sorry that the New Directions are gonna get crushed by the Troubletones. And also sorry that you have no talent. Sorry that you sing like you're getting your prostate checked, and you dance like you've been asleep for years and someone just woke you up. Have fun riding on Rachel's coattails for the rest of your life, although, you know what, I would just watch out for her come holiday time if I were him, because if I were her, I'd stick a stent in one of those boobs and let the Finn blubber light the Hanukkah lamp for eight magical nights. [walks away]
Finn: Hey Santana, why don't you just come out of the closet? [Santana stops walking and becomes shocked; Finn begins to approach her] You know, I think I know why you're so good at tearing everybody else down. It's because you're constantly tearing yourself down because you can't admit to everybody that you're in love with Brittany, and she might not love you back. That must hurt, not to be able to admit to everyone how you really feel. You know what I think you are? A coward. [walks away]

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