Jim tried to keep relatively calm while he waited for Pam to return from her meeting with Michael, assuring himself that the deer-caught-in-headlights look Michael gave him just before they left meant nothing. He made himself busy by cleaning the booth, organizing files, researching topics for the next show. But he was happy to see his brother's caller ID on his cell phone as a way to kill more time.

"Hey man."

"Wow, way to blatantly flirt with your co-host."

"Shut up."

"Do you always pour your heart out on air or was this just ‘Jim Halpert in the Morning: The Emo Edition.'"

Jim rolled his eyes and laughed. "Thank you for your support, Sam, I appreciate it."

"So is she hot? She sounds hot."

"I am so not having this conversation with you right now."

"So tonight at Poor Richards then?"

Jim paused, glancing around him to see if anyone was in earshot. "I'll see you at 7."

"Alright, big bro, that's what I'm talkin' about!"

"And Mom wonders why you're single." Just then, Jim caught a glimpse of a blue cardigan down the length of the hallway, making its way towards the booth.

"Hey, I've gotta go."

"Why? Is your girlfriend around?"

"See, I don't know how you'll be able to get into the bar tonight since you're apparently only thirteen," Jim shut the phone closed, abruptly ending Sam's shouts of protest. He turned his attention back to Pam but his smile quickly vanished when he saw her: a slight hunch in her shoulders and a downcast expression that brought his anxiety rushing back.

"Hey," he said, sprinting out of his chair to meet her in the hall. "Is everything okay? What was the meeting about?"

"What?" she asked, obviously distracted. "Oh, nothing, it's fine. He just needed some stats about the show." She smiled weakly, and Jim's worry continued to escalate.

"Okay...well, cool. Hey, I've got some topics for tomorrow's show, want to hear them?"
"Umm, okay..."

Jim ignored the uncertainty in her voice and pressed on, flipping through his notes.

"Okay, here's one: ‘Cugino's Pizza: Love it or leave it?'" He searched her face for any sign of amusement.

"Yeah, you're right, it's dumb. Alright, uhh, there's always ‘Movies on the Weekend: Fun or Overdone?'"

Pam once again was silent, giving only a forced smile to show that she was listening.

"Wow, tough crowd. One last one, ‘Men Who Cook: Risky or Romantic?'"

"You know, I really ought to be getting home," Pam said quickly, fumbling as she gathered her things. "I've got a cat and she gets cranky if she's left alone for too long..."

"Oh, okay..." Jim said, hurt weighing heavily on his voice. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"You bet, bright and early." Pam collected the rest of her things from her booth and walked quickly down the hall, seeming to ignore the small wave he gave her as she passed by.

xxx

"Alright, Big Fresca, what have we learned here today?"

"Only use the printer in case of emergency," Ryan repeated, his lack of enthusiasm oblivious to his "mentor."

"That's right. These ink cartridges are muy expensivo. Just write stuff out by hand if you really need it. Whoa, whoa, whoa," Andy stopped abruptly shoved his arm out in front of Ryan, causing him to stumble into it . "Chick marsala, extra spicy, 2 o'clock."

Kelly was sifting through her mailbox, completely unaware of the leering going on behind her.

"Kel-lay. Checking your mail, huh?"

"Mhmm," she murmured absently, re-folding her multi-page Visa bill.

"That's cool. Oh wait, hold on, I think you're getting a telegram. Signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yooours," Andy sang in a pitch that only dogs could hear.

"For the last time, Andy, I-oh my God," Kelly stared at Ryan, the rest of her mail falling to the ground.

Ryan stayed silent for an awkward few seconds before stooping to pick up the abandoned mail.

"Here, I'll get that-"

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that-"

"That's my hand."

"Oops, my mistake," Kelly said, still holding on to it as she stood up, bringing him along with her. "I'm Kelly."

"Okay, well, we better get going. Lots of mentoring to do, we can't dilly-dally," Andy interrupted, tearing Ryan's hand away from the giggling mess in pink. "Kelly Kapowski, catch ya' later."

With that, Andy forcefully led Ryan around the corner before shoving him into the men's bathroom.

"Whoa, hey-" Ryan began, staring at the index finger that was thrust in his face.

"Listen to me, intern. There's only room at this station for one Zach Morris. And that guy is me."

Ryan began to give in, but decided to take advantage of a golden opportunity.

"So, can I be Slater?"

"No, Michael is Slater."

"How about Mr. Belding?"

Andy considered the suggestion. "No, that's more Dwight. You can be Screech."

Ryan merely nodded, breathing a little easier as he watched Andy relax and straighten his tie.

"I'm glad we understand each other. Ooo, look at that. Lunch time. You hungry? Let's go to the caf', they have chocolate milk on Thursdays."

xxx

"Hey," Kevin's voice broke the silence at the lunch table, Oscar and Angela looking at him with vague interest. "What if Michael doesn't do it? Then we all lose our jobs..."

"Please. Michael may be an idiot, but he's not stupid enough to lose three DJs over a board operator," Angela said with a scowl.

"I don't know, I think Jim will put up a fight," Oscar said. "He seems pretty attached to her."

"If by ‘attached' you mean ‘unashamedly lusting after.' The only thing Jim wants to get in the middle of is her undoubtedly sullied bed sheets."

Her comment immediately produced a slow train of snickers, and Angela didn't have to look know the source.

"I just don't want to have to look for a job again," Oscar said, picking at his salad. "No one's going to want to hire a middle-aged travel agent."

"You're not even 40," Angela said without a hint of sympathy.

"Still," Oscar shifted uncomfortably. "The rules are different for...people like me."

Kevin looked between Angela and Oscar. "You mean...Mexicans?"

"Kevin, that's rude," Angela scolded, taking a sip of her tea. "He meant homosexuals."

"HEY!"