Pam walked into the office and stripped off her coat. She stood in front of the heater, trying desperately to get warm. She was pretty sure that frostbite was an acceptable consequence of snow angels on the roof with Jim. He had gone to his car to get his gym bag out of his trunk because it had some dry clothes in it. She flexed her fingers and was a little surprised by how much it hurt to have her frozen digits meet with the rush of hot air that was bellowing from the heater. She was soaked to the bone, her wet hair clung to her face and she knew she was going to get one of the worst colds of her life. But it was still worth it.

Phyllis came over to warm her hands over the heater as well. She smiled at Pam. "Did you and Jim play in the snow?"

"Yeah, I felt like a kid again," Pam told her, smiling.

"That's nice," Phyllis said. "Last winter Bob Vance and I had a snowball fight."

Pam nodded and grinned as she imagined that scene in her mind. She imagined a snowball fight with Jim. "There's just something about winter, you know?"

"Especially if you get to sit by the fire with someone you love," Phyllis said. "I've had a lot of winters, but the ones with Bob are best."

Pam looked at Phyllis and smiled. It was rare that she got the chance to see anyone at the office as an actual human being instead of a co-worker. It was a nice change of pace and she wished it could happen more often. She spent so much time thinking of everyone as merely phone extensions that she sometimes forgot that there was more to them than their four digit code and those unique quirks that only surface in the work environment.

"You're shaking," Phyllis said. "I think I have a sweatshirt at my desk, do you want it?"

"Oh, no, you use it, I -"

"No, I'm not cold, I'm fine," Phyllis insisted. "You're soaked. I'll get it for you."

Phyllis went to her desk.

Jim entered the office, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He joined Pam at the heater, playfully bumping his hip into hers.

"Hey, hey, I was here first," Pam said. "Girlfriend gets heater privileges."

Jim smirked. He opened the gym bag and pulled out a University of Scranton zip-up sweatshirt and a pair of black sweatpants and held them out to her.

"What are you gonna wear?" she asked.

Jim shrugged. "Girlfriend gets dry clothes privileges."

Pam took the sweatpants but left the sweatshirt in his arms. "You keep that. Phyllis said she has one at her desk I can use."

"Well I'm gonna go change then," Jim said. "I'm freezing. And I completely blame you, of course."

"Of course."

Jim kissed her temple before going off to the men's bathroom to change out of his wet clothes.

Phyllis came back with a sweatshirt that had a big Vance Refrigeration logo on the front. She handed it off to Pam. "There you go. That should be a lot better."

Pam said thank you then went to the women's bathroom to change. She felt a lot better once she had stripped off all her wet wardrobe and slipped into the warm, dry clothes. She was absolutely swimming in the outfit, so she pushed back the sleeves of the sweatshirt and rolled the waistband of the sweatpants so they fit her better, a trick she learned in high school when she was the scorekeeper for the track team. She took a little pride in the fact that she was the worst scorekeeper the team had ever seen - she spent more time drawing the runners than taking down event times.

Once she was changed, she hung her wet clothes over the stall door and moved to the mirror. Her cheeks were still rosy and she was sure she was going to get the flu. Her hair was wet and her natural curls were starting to return, so she swept her hair up into a messy ponytail.

She went back into the office and leaned against Jim's desk. He was wearing the zip-up, a pair of basketball shorts and had changed his shoes to sneakers (probably to avoid her mocking about basketball shorts and dress shoes, she guessed). "So, are you trying to get sick, or...?"

"I'll be fine," he told her. "You warm enough?"

"I'm good," she said. She noticed Jim absentmindedly tugging on the loose fabric of the sweatpants. She could imagine where his mind was wandering, but going there in front of everyone in the office was not something she was going to think about.

Dwight came out of the conference room. "Attention, everyone! I have an update on our situation."

Once he was satisfied that everyone was paying attention to him, he continued. "According to my police scanner, we're going to be here for a few more hours due to some accidents that are holding up the plows. I suggest everyone get nice and comfy, 'cause we're gonna be here a while."

Angela cleared her throat.

"I want to get some things from my car then," she said. "But I need help."

She looked at Andy, who had the appearance of an overeager puppy that didn't get enough attention. She frowned. She looked at Dwight, who was staring at her with sad, pleading eyes. Her frown deepened. She looked toward the rest of the men in the office before settling her gaze on Jim.

She heaved a deep and labored sigh, then asked, "Jim, will you help me, please?"

Jim looked surprised. He was quite sure that Angela thought he was an ungodly heathen, but then again, if his only other options were Dwight and Andy, he'd pick a heathen too. He straightened in his chair and replied, "Yeah, sure."

"Thank you," Angela said.

After Angela put on her coat, the pair left the office, Jim throwing a look at Pam over his shoulder as they went.

Pam smiled to herself as she tried to imagine Jim dealing with Angela's unique idea of friendly conversation. She walked over to the heater and put her hands out. She pushed the sleeves of the sweatshirt back to her elbows again and moved closer to the heater. She felt someone behind her and, uncomfortable, she turned around.

Andy was standing behind her, trying his best to look nonchalant. He looked around to make sure that no one was close enough to hear their conversation then leaned forward and whispered, "You and Angela are friends, right?"

"Uh... I guess," Pam replied. "As much as someone can be friends with Angela, anyway."

Andy nodded. "And, uh... you and I are friends, right Pam-Pam?"

After a beat, Pam nodded very slowly. "Uh... yeeeah..."

Andy nodded again and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Well, I was wondering, as a friend to a friend of a friend, what is the deal with Angela lately? I mean, has she told you anything about me? Like about my skills in the boudoir? Or -"

"Angela doesn't talk to me about the bedroom," Pam interrupted. She was very glad of that fact, actually.

"Well, I mean, it's hard because we haven't actually done any... bedroom activities if you know what I mean," Andy said. He added a wink for good measure. "In fact, she's been ignoring me. We're back to the necking, Pam. Necking. Literal necking. Just neck on neck action. Do you think she's intimidated because I went to Cornell?"

Pam paused before answering. "Yeah, you know, that is probably it. It's probably Cornell."

"Damn it," Andy swore and stomped his foot on the ground.

Pam opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the power went out. Everyone in the office groaned and grumbled. Now they didn't even have computers to distract them. The emergency lights in the hallway had switched on, causing the light to filter through under the space between the door and the carpet. It was the only light in the office.

Michael screamed and came out of his office like a bat out of hell. "IS EVERYONE ALRIGHT? HAS ANYONE DIED SINCE I'VE BEEN IN MY OFFICE?"

"We're fine, Michael," Pam assured him. "The power just went out, it's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Michael repeated. He scoffed. "Look, Pam, this is just what the vampires were waiting for, okay? They wait for the snow and they wait for the lights to go out then they come in here and grab you and drag you under a house in the wilderness and they drink your blood and they probably boil your brain and have it like Jello. I would say that's a pretty big deal!"

Pam rolled her eyes. Michael had just described the plot of the movie 30 Days of Night, or at least what he had garnered from the previews.

"Vampires are not making Jello shots out of my brain," Michael said in what he thought was a brave tone. "I'm taking a stand. Dwight? The kitchen?"

Dwight nodded fiercely and followed Michael into the kitchen.

The phone rang and Pam answered it, foregoing her usual routine for a simple "Hello?"

"So, we're stuck in the elevator."

It was Jim. Pam sat in her chair behind her desk. She tried to imagine being stuck in an elevator with Angela. "Wow. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Just... stuck in an elevator. Together. Me and Angela. In an elevator."

Pam tried not to grin. Really she did. "I... am so sorry. That is a top ten on my Not To Do list. I'll try to get the power back on for you."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Bye." Pam hung up the phone. She was about to suggest that she go to the fuse box when Michael came back into the room with Dwight trailing him.

Dwight was carrying a large cardboard box. He sneaked into Michael's office and closed the door behind him.

Michael was holding a small container with a green label. He proclaimed, "This will save us."

Michael took the lid off and shook the contents of the container around the room as if he was swinging a lasso above his head. A fine powder wafted around the room and when some landed on Pam's desk, she swept some up with her index finger and smelled it carefully.

"This is garlic powder," she said. She rubbed the powder off her index finger with her thumb. "How is this -"

"It's going to keep the vampires away, Pam. God," Michael said. "You'll thank me when you don't have two giant holes in your neck and you still have all your own blood."

Dwight came out of Michael's office without the cardboard box and moved to stand in front of the main office door.

"And just in case," Michael said as he gestured to Dwight, "I am having Dwight stand guard to make sure that none of you accidentally invites any vampires into the office. That's how they get in - you invite them. Now - wait, where is Jim?"

"He and Angela went to get something out of Angela's car," Pam told him.

Michael shook his head. "Well, they're probably dead. I'm sorry. Dwight, if they come to the door, don't let them in. Especially Angela."

Dwight nodded gravely.

"Michael, this is ridiculous," Oscar said.

"You're ridiculous!" Michael exclaimed. He pointed at Oscar then retreated back into his office, closing the door behind him.

Dwight glared at them all.