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‘Cause I need this now more than I ever did.

Jimmy Eat World, If You Don't Don't

You lean against her desk because Kevin and Oscar are there, too. You have a reason. A purpose. She's counting Jelly Beans and you've all placed bets, so it makes sense... that you'd watch.

Karen's there (it's not like you forgot), and after everything, you think it's good, the way the three of you can occupy the same space without awkwardness and silence.

Forty-nine. Jim wins!

Her voice is light and you smile a little as you count your cash, barely registering Kev's complaint.

That is not fair. He has spent hours up here at reception with you. Hours. And hours.

You feel Karen's eyes, see Pam drop her chin, like she's trying to disappear.

They're both waiting on you to make it stop.

No, constantly, like, for years.

Okay.

Kevin grumbles, and you add the exchange to a list of moments the three of you silently agree to ignore.

Still, you breathe easier when Ryan appears, ready to lay stakes on Kelly.

The day moves quickly from there and you can't remember having this much fun at work since sending Andy to anger management. You know it's a little twisted, how well people in the office know one another, but when you collect $10 because Creed's eating a raw potato, it seems worth it.

By 5:00, you've made $57.

"I think you owe me a ‘thank you' - and dinner - for all the extra cash in your pocket." Karen smiles wearily and leans against your desk (you hate when she does that).

"Come on, Filipelli, think of all the good you did today." She waits, eyebrows raised, for you to continue. "Because of you, Kevin has fulfilled his lifelong goal of being a bookie - I saw him crying tears of joy in the break room earlier, Meredith went home with a fistful of booze money and Ryan was actually nice to Kelly. You can't put a price on that."

She pops you lightly on the arm and hands you your jacket.

"So, I was just being charitable?"

"Extremely."

She doesn't mention Kelly and Creed. Or the way you stood with Pam in the parking lot. She never asks how the two of you knew Michael's plan, just by looking at a bouncy castle, or what the knowing glances between you meant.

You're thankful, because you don't want to explain. Aren't sure you can.

The elevator door closes, and she's quiet, lips pursed, "I really don't know anything about this place."

And you wonder if she's talking about the office.