She's making copies she doesn't really need to make.

But it never hurts to have another backup. And the department will never miss a few pieces of paper.

Besides, this way she can see it better.

He's standing in Michael's doorway, his hands on his waist, his feet spread. The beard makes him look... firm. In manner, of course. He's not letting Michael get away with whatever he's trying to get away with. At one point Roy points back over his shoulder with his thumb, and it seems like he's pointing right at her, so she ducks down to fix a paper jam that hasn't happened yet. She peeks up a few moments later to find him walking toward her. Not just toward her, at her. She stands quickly, grabs her copies, and holds them in front of her.

"Hey, Angela."

"Hello. Roy."

"How's it going?"

"Um," she glances quickly at Pam, then Dwight. Busy... busy. "Fine. Everything's fine. How are you, Roy?" She begins backing toward her desk.

He nods. "Fine." He's still advancing. When she runs into her chair, she falters to a stop, one hand darting out to steady her on her desktop. "Hey, I was just wondering if you ever found out... you know..." He looks around briefly then leans close - very close - to her, "...who took that money."

His teeth look very white next to the beard.

She imagines them biting into a green apple.

"Y-yes. That's been resolved."

He grins at her and she can hear the crispy pop as he breaks the apple's skin.

His voice is low, teasing. "Who was it?"

"Oh, I can't -"

He leans closer until his mouth is next to her ear. He whispers a name.

His breath is warm and she can smell the apple. The tartness of it makes her swallow.

"I... really can't say."

He straightens again, chuckling softly. "Gotcha." He winks at her. "I'm sure you figured it out right away. Well, have a good one." He waves and she watches him round the cubicle wall, walk past reception without a glance, close the door behind him.

She turns back to find Dwight standing near the ficus tree, his short-sleeved elbows sticking out, his fingers drumming on his belt.

"Nice," Kevin leers. Dwight frowns at him, then back at Angela.

Before she can reprimand Kevin, though, Oscar's doing it for her.

"What? Jeez, it's so obvious."

"That's enough."

She sinks into her chair and does her best to avoid three pairs of eyes.

She wonders what Dwight will say when she asks him tonight to grow one.

Oscar

He's returning packages he doesn't really need to return.

But it never hurts to get a little exercise. And the office will never miss a few reams of paper.

Besides, this way he can see it better.

He looks for Roy as he descends the warehouse steps, finds him sitting on the forklift, talking to Lonny. He walks toward them, nodding. They watch him approach with something between curiosity and dread. He gives his best conciliatory smile.

"Hi."

"Hey... what's up?"

"Well, ah, I need to return these. They're damaged." He raises the reams he holds, showing them how a box knife has cut through the wrappers and into the paper inside. He may or may not have a box knife in his drawer upstairs. It's not important.

Roy's frowning at the paper. He holds out his hand. "Let me see." His wrists are strong. His eyebrows lift and he sighs. "Yup. Damaged."

"Can you maybe show me where to find more? To take upstairs?"

Roy hands the reams to Lonny and jumps down from the forklift. His boots hit the concrete with a solid thump. "Sure. This way."

He can't see the beard now, but that's okay. He studies how Roy's shirt stretches between his shoulders, tapers slightly to a solid waist.

He can almost feel the worn leather of Roy's belt on his fingertips.

"Twenty weight?"

"Hm? Oh... yeah." He clears his throat. "Twenty. You know... for the copier."

"Here it is."

"Thanks. Oh, I can get -"

But Roy's lifting a case from the shelf and Oscar can almost hear the soft thud of a belt dropping to the floor.

"How many?" Roy looks at him over his shoulder.

The boxes of paper look very white next to the beard.

"Uh, five should do it. Thanks."

Roy hands them to him one at a time, then puts the case back. He marks the end of it with a Sharpie from his shirt pocket.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Oscar turns to leave.

"Hey, wait up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I was just wondering what barber shop you go to." He shrugs. "I'm getting a little shaggy, and Lonny and Darryl's place... specializes. Your cut looks good, though."

Oscar feels the belt under his bare feet. He shakes his head to clear the sensation.

"Oh! Uh, it's on Spruce. Mackrell's."

"Mackrell's on Spruce. Cool, thanks." Roy slaps him on the back. " 'Preciate it."

On his way back upstairs, he's surprised to pass Jan. She's watching the warehouse floor closely. When he greets her, she looks at him distractedly for a moment before regaining her focus. She smiles efficiently, "Hello, Oscar." Then looks back toward the forklift.

He wonders if Gil will complain when he hides his razor tonight.

Jan

She's taking supplies she doesn't really need to take.

But it never hurts to know your product. And the warehouse will never miss a few cases of paper.

Besides, this way she can see it better.

Well, not right this moment. Right this moment, he's behind her, pushing the dolly, watching her. She walks more slowly than usual, and when she turns to speak to him, he has to raise his eyes. She almost doesn't notice. He's covered before.

She thinks her hotel's shower tile would look very white next to the beard.

She fishes in her purse for a cigarette as he loads the cases. She pauses, smoke in one hand, lighter in the other, when he grunts lifting the final box.

She can feel the hot water hitting her back as she scratches his chest.

"D'you guys ever go out after work?"

He nods. "Yeah. Yeah, place called Poor Richard's."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hm."

She gauges his expression for a moment, then sighs. "I could use a drink tonight."

He's watching her intently.

She leans against her car and languidly blows smoke up and away.

His gaze flicks from her eyes to her mouth, and she can feel him thick and hot inside her.

"Maybe I'll see you there."

He nods. "Mm. Maybe."

He carries the dolly back under his arm.

She wonders what the beard will feel like under her tongue tonight.