They hadn't spoken much during the ride to Cugino's.  There was nothing to say.  Okay, there was everything to say, he amended, but most of the things he wanted to say, he needed to say, were a little heady for a first date.  Such as. . .I've loved you ever since the first day we met. . .you're all I think about. . .when I was asked today where want to be in five years from now, all I could see was you.  "No, that won't be too much pressure, will it?"

The waiter showed them to their seat, a booth in the front corner of the restaurant.  As Jim slid into his seat, he glanced to the left, spotting the table where they sat the first time they came here together, five. . .no, almost six years ago.  A lifetime ago.

His head spun.  Was it always so quiet in here?  The waiter's name was Eddie; a teenager whose parents owned the place.  He gave Jim a knowing smile, eyes lighting on Pam and then flitting back to Jim.  Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here, where they were so well known.  Apparently, it was only too obvious to Eddie--and judging from a quick peek at the counter, to the tender-faced girl behind the register as well--what was going on.

All of his concentration was being employed into keeping his menu steady.  If it quaked visibly, she would know his hands were shaking.

He glanced up at her quickly.  She glanced away quickly.  Not quickly enough, though.  He had noticed the one upward drawn brow, the slight smile on her lips, before her face had hastily rearranged itself.  "What's that all about," he wondered.

"So, what are you going to order?"  The small smirk was back in place, her voice quavering a little.

"Uh. . .I'm going for the ham and cheese, I think."  And then he got it.  She knew he always ordered the same thing, that he never needed the menu.  It had clearly been a diversion.  Her eyes fixed on his, and gave her a small nod of acknowledgement.  "Okay, you caught me, Beesly."

The conversational lull returned, heavy and oppressive.  She was using the menu, giving him the opportunity to survey her covertly.  She was wearing a purple shirt he'd never seen before, her hair loose over her shoulders, tucked behind her ear on one side.  She only wore her hair down when she was excited for something; he had picked up on this over many Valentine's Days and anniversaries.  It gave him a tiny thrill to see it tonight.

She looked up in a startling flash of pale green, and he instinctively looked away at once, that familiar surge of guilt washing over him.  "Old habits die hard," he thought to himself, cheeks burning with a sudden sense of foolishness.

Scouring his brain for something, anything, to say, and finding nothing suitable, he exhaled strongly and audibly through his nose, defeated.  He felt something nudge his shin under the table.  He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion, but she was busy gazing at the dessert selections, an expression of bland, and unconvincing, contemplation on her face.

"So that's how you want to play?"  He donned a similarly passive face, and brought his foot casually and deliberately into contact with hers.  His reward for this was a gratifying slow bloom of pink to her cheeks.  Her foot brushed up against his ankle.  He covered her toes with his, resting them there lightly.

It was a small beacon of encouragement, this shy, subterranean conversation.  She was telling him that she understood.  "It's weird and a little scary right now, but I trust you.  We'll get past it."  He could hear her voice in his head just as clearly as if she had been speaking in his ear, and dimly wondered for a second if he was telepathic.  Their eyes met; no, it wasn't telepathy.

She had a face he could read like a book.  One of his favorite things about her, one of the reasons he had fallen in love with her in the first place; the way every tiny flicker of emotion was instantaneously displayed on her lovely face.  She was a horrible liar.

"Am I going to have to pull out the conversation cards, Halpert, or do you think we can manage on our own?"

Caught off guard, he laughed.  "That depends.  Do you actually have conversation cards?"

She grinned and nodded.  "Kelly gave them to me."  Her shoulders hunched as she giggled.

"Okay, well, now we have to use them."  He made a mental note to get Kelly something really nice for her birthday.

She pulled a stack of pink index cards from her purse.  "First card; Topic: movies.  So, insert-name-of-date-here, how do you feel about The Notebook?  Titanic?  Sleepless in Seattle?  Lady and the Tramp?"