Every Dunder-Mifflin employee, as Dwight constantly reminded Jim, was given the “privilege” of a half-hour paid lunch break per workday. Jim took his lunch at noon every day, and recently had gone back to the same lunch every day, a ham and cheese sandwich and carrot sticks. However, today wasn’t like every other day, it was Friday and more then that it was the Friday before a three-day weekend.

With that and a multitude of other things on his mind, Jim walked into the break room at 11:30 and prepared to take a long lunch, a very long lunch. He bought a Coke and set his sandwich and baggie of carrots in front of him on the table and sighed deeply. He unclenched his jaw, uncurled his toes, and willed himself to relax, if only for a minute. He had been back in Scranton for a couple of months now, and things were going all right but the tension and awkwardness with Pam sapped the energy out of him every day. Most days when he got back to his apartment he usually just collapsed on his sofa, which was flanked on either side by still unpacked boxes.

He tried hard to focus on Karen, on her personality and her sense of humor. When that failed he focused on her superficially, her lips, her small waist, and slender legs. That usually worked once or sometimes twice a week, but it left him with the feeling that he was becoming the kind of guy that he had always hated. The kind of guy that objectified women and stayed in relationships for the sex. He thought about Katy and now Karen, and wondered if he was only a couple more women away from becoming Todd Packer. The thought made him shutter and he bit into his sandwich and re-focused on relaxing. It didn’t last long.

Dwight entered the break room with a pace usually reserved for Olympians. Jim took a sip of his Coke and prepared himself for a speech about dereliction of duty. He decided then that he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, and would pull rank on him if necessary. It was, yet again, something that made him feel uncomfortable and not at all himself. Jim had avoided using his title of “Assistant Regional Manager” against Dwight as much as possible, except for pranks of course. Pulling rank, treating others like subordinates made him feel like he should have product in his hair, a briefcase in his hand, an ex-wife, and a mortgage. He wasn’t Corporate, he was fine with not combing his hair, his satchel bag, and renting. He blocked out the question of a girlfriend altogether. Interrupting his never-ending stream of thought was Dwight’s question, said with a machine-gun like ferocity.

“What is this?”

Jim looked up to answer him, to tell him that he outranked him, and that he should leave him the hell alone, but he swallowed his words when he saw that Dwight wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, he was staring at the sideboard, and a copy of the board game RISK that was sitting there. Jim hadn’t even noticed it when he had come in he had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts. He stared at the game and then back up at Dwight and asked the most self-evident question that came to mind.

“Uh….is that a rhetorical question Dwight?”

Dwight’s brow furrowed and he stared at Jim through squinted eyes. The look alternately amused and slightly alarmed Jim.

“Yes, I know what it is Jim…What is it doing here? How did it get here? Whose is it?” Dwight now had his hands on his hips, and looked the very model of a Volunteer Sheriff's Deputy.

Jim was too weary from the day to mess with Dwight. He had made eye contact with Pam once the entire morning, and she had immediately looked back to her monitor, her face the picture of apathy. He just wanted Dwight gone so he could munch his carrot sticks, drink his Coke, and eat his sandwich.

“I don’t know Dwight, somebody must have brought it in….uh…obviously…” Jim was evidently more tired then he thought. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It has no name or any type of identification or ownership marks. I am confiscating it immediately.” Dwight reached over, picked up the game, and turned to leave.

Jim wanted to let him go, wanted to let him walk out the door, but he couldn’t. The game obviously belonged to somebody, and he couldn’t just let Dwight steal it.

“Dwight, you can’t just take the game ok? It belongs to somebody and when they find out you took it they’re going to be angry...” Jim stopped when he realized threatening Dwight with the possibility of being unpopular was a ridiculous idea. He immediately changed gears. “…and they’ll probably report you to Toby, and then your permanent file will say that you stole from your co-workers.” Jim smiled, he knew that he had convinced him even before he saw Dwight’s reaction.

Dwight froze at Jim’s words, and then slowly turned around. His eyes flitted back and forth, obviously pondering the likelihood of such a besmirching of his Dunder-Mifflin record. He walked back to the counter and slowly put the box down exactly where he had found it. He turned towards Jim.

“Jim, I would never steal anything. When I was 12, my sixth grade class went to The Anthracite Museum. They were giving away one free polished stone to children under 13. I took a Tiger’s Eye, because of my love for the cinematic masterpiece Rocky. When I got home I found a Hematite in my pocket. I immediately suspected Raj Patel, my arch-nemesis…” Despite the caffeine from the Coke, Jim’s survival instincts began to take over, and he began to fade in and out of Dwight’s speech. He re-focused to catch the end. “…after the INS left, I demanded that my father drive me back to the Museum so that I could give back the second stone. Despite the fact that I hadn’t stolen it!”

Jim looked blankly at Dwight, and reached lazily for a carrot, which he began to chew in the side of his mouth. “Wow Dwight….that….that was a lot of information….that I am now forced to remember.”

“Irrelevant. Also, I am a RISK Grandchampion, I’ve played 148 games. Sooo…” Dwight trailed off, and looked at Jim, expecting a suitably impressed face, a look that would acknowledge his RISK superiority. He was disappointed.

Once again, Jim knew he should just shut up. Go back to his lunch and then maybe he could be alone for a minute to relax, but he just couldn’t help himself, he had to ask.

“Whom do you play against?”

Dwight looked confused at the question. “What do you mean?”

“You know…its like a three player or more game…so whom do you play against?” Jim couldn’t imagine how Dwight had played so many games. It implied friends, or at least people that were willing to sit in a room with him for hours and not be paid for it. He briefly considered kidnapping, but dismissed it.

“I play against myself, I’m a Grandchampion. There is no tougher competition.” Dwight said matter-of-factly.

Jim smiled, and cocked his head to the side, closing his left eye slightly more then the right, “You play RISK….against yourself?”

Dwight was unfazed by his tone of voice. “Yes, I play with four armies, and designate each as a imperial force from a different historical epoch. Romans, Mongolians, British, and Nazis slash Germans. I then proceed to take command of each force and attempt to guide them to world supremacy.”

Jim sat up and stared back at Dwight, the smile still on his face. He imagined Dwight feverishly hunched over a RISK board, somewhere in a barn, doing the sound effects of the various conflicts. He probably kept a running journal of each game, so that he could learn from his mistakes. Jim laughed out loud at the thought. His laugh provoked another stern look and speech from Dwight.

“Jim, RISK is a very serious game! It’s a game of global domination, there is nothing more important then power. You wouldn’t understand that of course….you wouldn’t last 10 turns in a hardcore game of RISK.” He practically spat the last words at Jim, who was now chuckling, to the further enragement of Dwight.

“Wow Dwight…you think that you could beat me in a game of RISK? I mean—” He was cut off by Dwight.

“I would murder you in a game of RISK Jim. The Nazi army would blitzkrieg you off the map---” Now it was Jim’s turn to interrupt Dwight.

“Wait….” Jim looked at Dwight with one eyebrow raised, and an overall bemused expression. “You would choose to be the Nazis?” He had clearly caught Dwight off guard.

“No! I mean….of course not! Jim, don’t attempt to confuse me with your femininesque wiles…” Jim looked around, desperately hoping to find a camera to glance into, but there was none. “Regardless of my army, I would efficiently and effectively guide them to total victory of whatever half-baked opposition you attempted.”

For a moment, Jim forgot about Karen, Pam, and even the fact that he had hitched his career to a failing mid-sized paper company. The possibility of beating Dwight on his own terms was just too tempting, he couldn’t resist. Plus, it was Friday, before a three-day weekend, which meant most of his customers were gone anyway. The weariness and anxiety that he had entered the break room was temporarily gone. He locked eyes with Dwight, drained his face of any traces of amusement and said with the greatest amount of mock-seriousness that he could muster, “let’s do it then.”

Dwight actually took a step backwards, so shocked at Jim’s challenge. He blinked several times without speaking. “I---I----Jim we can’t play RISK at work, it would be inappropriate! A misallocation of company time...”

Jim knew that he had Dwight on his heels, and decided to push him even further. “Oh…yeah you’re probably right Dwight. I mean….I realize that you probably should get back, you know, make some sales. I know that you’re behind me….plus, you wouldn’t want to lose RISK in front of your co-workers, I’d probably be embarrassing.”

Dwight looked as though Jim had stood up, walked three paces towards him and slapped him across the face. He reached up to adjust his glasses and run his fingers through his hair. Jim watched him closely. He could tell Dwight was pondering his challenge. When Dwight instinctively licked his bottom lip in thought, Jim decided it was better if he didn’t look so close and returned back to his lunch. Silence fell between the two of them for what felt like minutes. Dwight eventually spoke. “I accept your challenge Jim. We shall meet on the battlefield as men, and I will eviscerate you.” The intensity in his eyes and face had returned in full force.

“Wow…eviscerate? Really? That seems….a little harsh.” Dwight ignored him and brought over the RISK box and set it on the table forcefully. “Dwight, the two of us can’t play RISK, we need, like, two more people.”

Dwight paused and turned to Jim, their faces now only inches apart. “I accept your terms” he announced.

“What terms?”

“The ones that you just dictated. A global war cannot be fought between two separate superpowers, it is unfeasible, and expensive….” Jim once again began to feel drowsy but held it together to listen to Dwight. “…we should conscript two more Dunder-Mifflin employees to participate in the campaign.” Dwight’s increasingly militaristic vocabulary only broadened Jim’s smile and amusement of the entire situation.

“We could do that…or, we could ask people if they wanted to play. Like people would.” Jim paused, and reflected on who in the office would want to play. Pam? Maybe, but that would probably be a bad idea. Karen? That would be an even worse idea. He had seen Karen play Call of Duty in Stamford, and he didn’t want RISK to end in the game board being overturned by Karen unleashing a flying kick at Dwight’s head. Plus, she had told him yesterday that they wouldn’t be able to eat lunch together today because she had to run errands during the break. What about Phyllis? Jim pondered it for a moment, why not? That could work.

“Hey Dwight, what about Phyllis? I’m sure she would love to play.”

Dwight, who had now opened and was examining the contents of the RISK box, smiled and shook his head at him. It reminded Jim of the way someone might look at a puppy chasing its tail. “Jim..” he started in a soft, almost insultingly slow pace, “…this is RISK, this is war. Leading men into combat, strategy, and domination of one’s opponent. There is no place for women in RISK.” Jim was about to interject that it was the twenty-first century, but thought better of it and let Dwight continue, “women are soft, gentle.….” his voice trailed away a little, and his eyes glazed over slightly. Jim choked back carrot. “….petite creatures. Their minds are pure, and should not be cluttered with the harsh realities of combat and destruction.”

Jim squinted sharply, and frowned, unsure of exactly how to logically combat Dwight’s illogical assumptions about women. He picked up the top of the box that Dwight had discarded into the chair next to him and pointed to it. “Yeah….it says here that its for ages 10 and up. That….and the fact that there is no war….or destruction…or combat….you know, because it’s a game with plastic figures and dice.” His mocking tone, as usual, was not picked up on by Dwight.

“You don’t understand Jim. I’m not surprised. You may be having relations with Karen, but you obviously don’t understand women.” Dwight’s comment shot Jim’s eyebrows to near his hairline, but he bit back his tongue. He didn’t want to get into a conversation about Karen with anyone. Dwight continued, “I refuse to play RISK with women, its unfair to them.”

Jim didn’t want to continue to argue with Dwight about it, especially when he knew that Phyllis was the only woman he would ask anyway. Instead, he twisted the right corner of his mouth into a smile and said, “I agree Dwight, making them play RISK with you would be unfair to them.”

“Good, I’m glad we finally agree on something. Now…” Dwight stood up from the table, which now had the game board folded out and four different colored armies assembled off to either side, and strode towards the door, “…let’s go find two men to watch me crush you.”

Jim sighed, pushed back his sandwich, and matched Dwight’s stride back into the office. Once there he turned to Dwight questioningly, “so who do you think we should ask?”