It really took her longer than it should to put two and two together. In her defense, there was some serious shock involved. Start with the idea that Andy Bernard was interested in her at all. She’d barely registered his existence. OK, that wasn’t hard, because she’d had eyes for no one but Jim when they first merged the branches, but if there was someone from Stamford who made less of an impression on her than Andy, it was hard to think of them. And she had certainly not done anything to draw his attention, or indicate any interest in him either.

OK, so maybe it was just a normal male reaction to an apparently available female, but she couldn’t credit the idea that she was all that attractive to him. She knew her wardrobe had improved since her time with Roy, but she’d kept the more…Kelly-inspired…items at home, and nothing she wore to work (after the fiasco of that first day with Jim at least) was anything to write home about. And while she no longer wore a ring on her left hand, she also had made no indication in his direction that she was available. Or at least available to him—what kind of guy took her hitting on Jim (and yes, she had been doing that, although it would be just her luck that Andy would notice and Jim, seemingly, not at all) as a green light for someone else to hit on her? Unless Andy already knew that Jim was taken…

She didn’t really want to think about that any more.

Then, to add to it, he was doing it so wrong. Like, he literally could not have chosen worse. A banjo? She’d hated banjoes ever since grade school, when they’d replaced art class with music class and all they’d bought for them to play was banjoes. She couldn’t stand the sound, it always reminded her of throwing fits as a seven-year-old. Add to that that that was the first time (but definitively not the last time) she’d heard the dread words “no more painting, Pammy,” and just…no.

And in falsetto? Falsettos creeped her out. Unlike the banjo thing she had no specific trigger moment, no specific memory to flash back to as she cringed, but she had never, ever, not in a million years of imaginary past lives, liked a falsetto. She could barely listen to “Bohemian Rhapsody” (I see a little silhouetto of a yuck), and she liked Queen, let alone listening to Andy Bernard butcher tones like that.

And really, “Rainbow Connection?” That was when she twigged, actually, when she realized that there were only three people she’d ever confided her particular hatred for that song to: her mom, her best friend Izzy, and Jim Halpert. She was pretty sure her dad and her sister probably knew too, but she was confident Andy had not been asking questions around the Beesly household. No, this was definitely Jim’s doing. Which meant it all was, then.

So how was she to feel about this?

On the one hand, there was the little shared smile she and Jim had had when she finally realized. That was a nice moment of connection, after the awkward days around the merger. So put one in the positive column for that.

Put another for the fact that he knew her this well. He must really have been paying attention to her to remember those things; it wasn’t like banjoes, falsettos, or bad Muppet songs came up in ordinary conversation—even their typically weird conversations—and she was pretty sure she’d only mentioned each a handful of times at most. Then again, that was Jim; he’d often surprised her with a quick memory for things she forgot she’d even mentioned to him, from her favorite flavor of yogurt (and its expiration date, which she hadn’t even mentioned of course but he’d still noticed) to bringing in books he’d been reading that she’d mentioned a year earlier she wanted to flip through. He was thoughtful that way.

But put a big mark in the negative column for the way he was using it. Sure, pranking her was in a way a relief, an indicator he was still thinking about her, why couldn’t he use that same awareness, that same knowledge of her, to actually woo her instead of setting Andy to do the same thing in mockery? Not that Andy knew he was mocking her, but Jim did, and for all it was a prank on Andy too, it hurt to see Jim intentionally setting her up not for disappointment (she did not want to be with Andy) but for…something less than what she wanted. How could he know her this well without also knowing that she wanted only one man to be serenading her—that she would have jumped into his arms even if he were playing “Rainbow Connection,” on a banjo, in falsetto?

Put another for him sharing this with Andy at all. Sure, he had done so in inverse language—clearly telling Andy the opposite of the truth—but now he’d revealed what had once been private knowledge between the two of them for everyone to see as she winced away from Andy’s performance. She’d liked knowing that there were things she’d told him and almost no one else. This seemed like it muddied those waters in ways she wasn’t entirely happy with.

So a balance, fifty-fifty. But sway that balance with the way Karen Filipelli was looking at him, and how although he’d met her eyes when Andy performed he hadn’t, as was his custom of old, actually come over, taken the damn jellybeans she’d set out (for him; she’d switched up the candy while he was gone) and talked to her about it.

Definitely on the wrong side of the balance. She sighed. Every cloud had a silver lining. But she’d much rather have a little more silver and a little less cloud.