Jim shrugs his shoulders and bends forward slightly, burrowing deeper into his coat, his hands shoved in his pockets. They've all been standing outside the building for fifteen minutes now, the chilly October wind whipping around them as they wait for the arrival of the "Poconos Party Bus," as Michael insists on referring to it.
Jim starts to walk in a slow circle, attempting to warm himself even as Michael begins to rattle off a list of the various "funtivities" he has planned for them on this, their camaraderie weekend.
"Climbing wall, karaoke, and - ooh! Almost forgot." He grins at them, ignoring it when Stanley rolls his eyes and turns his back. "The Outlet Mall!"
"Michael, what does any of that have to do with team-building?" Angela, as usual, doesn't even bother to hide her disgust.
"Because it's -- " He waves his hands in frustration, his composure slipping. "Just -- shut it, Angela. Okay? Can you do that?"
Angela shakes her head, muttering acidly, "Wasteful."
Kevin sidles up to Jim, then leans close to murmur, "This hotel has a lounge."
The smile that follows his announcement is slow, creeping across his face in a manner that always reminds Jim of a ten year-old boy who has discovered a secret stash of porn or something.
"Mmm." Jim finds himself wondering absently what Kevin was like as a ten year-old...because he's pretty sure that he couldn't possibly have behaved that much differently then than he does now. He hears Oscar ask Michael why they have to take a bus when the Pocmont Resort is only a half hour away. Michael's response is flustered, his disappointment palpable; he's been planning this for weeks, and the lack of enthusiasm he's facing now has dampened his spirits.
Jim almost feels guilty as Kevin goes on, obviously wanting Jim to share his excitement about the lounge: "And you know what that means."
"There'll be a piano..?" He mutters absently, not really intending to be a smartass, but somehow unable to stop himself either. Because he's distracted and frustrated and grouchy, and the last thing he wants to do is spend the next two days engaging in mind-numbing, time-wasting exercises all in the name of camaraderie...no matter how nice the resort is.
It'd have been a different story if Pam were going - a much different story. But apparently Roy hadn't wanted her to go - not that she'd admitted that to Jim, but the way her eyes avoided his when she told him she wasn't going was something he'd long since learned to recognize as empirical evidence of the fact that Roy could be a controlling, self-centered prick when he really wanted to be.
And Pam...well, Pam could sometimes be so frustratingly passive, in spite of that spunky side he loved so much. Maybe it was the fact that he knew she had the potential to be so much more that really bugged him the most about her being with Roy.
At least, that's what he's been telling himself lately, steadily losing hope after a year of silently imagining all the ways she might find the courage to leave Roy and be with him.
It's misting now, and he's getting close to pissed off, even as he muses silently that he wishes he had an overbearing girlfriend who could've gotten him out of this. He has no idea what excuse Pam gave Michael to exonerate herself from this "mandatory" event, but he's beginning to seriously contemplate faking an illness.
"Roll call!" Dwight's storming through the gathered throng, clipboard in hand, snatching a pen from behind his ear as he orders, "When I call your name, immediately answer 'present.' Do not pause; do not take a breath --- just answer."
Jim's hand shoots up. May as well pass the time....
Dwight responds with a tilted head, a glare, and an exaggerated sigh. "What is it, Jim?"
"Question." Every time he prefaces an inquiry like that, he expects Dwight to call him on the fact that he's basically mocking him. Yet somehow Dwight never seems to catch on. "Why do we have to say 'present' when you can clearly see who's here and who isn't?"
Dwight strides up to stand in front of him, close enough that his breath is unpleasantly warm on Jim's face. When he speaks, it's through clenched teeth. "Do you have any idea what an undertaking this is? Transporting the entire staff of an office when - "
"Kelly's not here." Jim immediately interjects, watching Dwight's expression.
"That is because her sister is getting married this weekend." He spits the words more than pronounces them, having long since lost the ability to be patient with Jim.
"Oh, okay. Because Phyllis isn't going either."
"Her mother is having sur --" Jim watches as Dwight realizes he's just wasting his time. "Jim."
"Dwight." He retorts, musing that he's actually getting a rise out of him now; he wonders if maybe he ought to rein it in a bit. After all, he's got the whole weekend to have fun with Dwight.
"It is absolutely necessary that we account for every individual who attends this event. After all, we're going to the wilderness; anything could happen."
Jim makes a face. "It's a commercial resort in the mountains, Dwight, not the wilderness."
"I'm sorry." Dwight's cocking his head, giving him that righteously indignant expression that he wears so well. "Were you raised in an Amish community 43.6 miles away from the nearest populated area?"
"Oh my god." Jim's eyes widen, and he draws back a little. "How did you know that?"
Dwight's face freezes and he blinks, stunned; in spite of himself, Jim can't hold a straight face. Dwight's eyes fall to his lips, which are pursed and tensed at the corners, fighting back a smile.
"Wiseass." Dwight hisses, then turns on his heel, stalking off.
Just as Jim is wishing Pam were here to see that - and join in - he spots Roy's truck slowly pulling into a parking place off to the side. The driver's side door opens and Roy gets out, leaning behind the seat and jostling with something. But before Jim can figure out what it is, Pam is suddenly coming around the other side of the truck, huddled into her coat as she goes to stand patiently next to where Roy is fumbling.
The surge of excitement and relief that Jim feels when Roy produces an overnight bag and hands it to Pam is significantly diminished when she responds by standing on her tiptoes and kissing him on the lips. It's second nature for Jim to immediately look away, and he wonders why it still rattles him to see them kiss. It's not like it had been passionate or lingering; in fact, it was one of those chaste, thoughtless kisses that longterm couples share when they've become more like room mates than lovers.
He's certain that it wouldn't matter how long he'd been with her - he'd never be able to just peck her on the lips so quickly, so absently. There was just no way.
And then she's standing beside him, grinning, her face turned up, cheeks pink from the cold. Or, at least, he thinks it's the cold - though on closer inspection, he's not sure, because her eyes seem awfully alive, too.
"So..." Why he feels the need to quell his excitement - even though she's clearly not doing anything to hide her own - is beyond him. "You made it after all."
"Mmm-hmm." She nods happily, her eyes on his.
"So what happened?"
She smiles slowly, and he wonders if her answer is a deliberate attempt to avoid the subject of Roy. "Well, come on...what kind of friend would I be if I left you all alone with Dwight for the entire weekend?"
He somehow manages a tight-lipped, tense smile in return, hoping that one day -- one day -- hearing her say "friend" won't make him flinch.
