Roy always noticed Pammy. Well, now that he wasn’t at that stupid ice hockey game—but that was years ago. People thought he didn’t, but he did. Did he always think what she was doing or wearing or whatever was the most important thing in the world? No, of course not. That wouldn’t be healthy. No one should always prioritize someone else over themselves—he wouldn’t expect Pammy to do that for him either. Sure, he wanted dinner on the table and a beer in his hand and the game on, but she didn’t have to be there while he watched it. If she wanted to do her art things, that was fine. He meant it when he said she didn’t have to be there if she didn’t want to be. Why did everyone always assume there was something lurking underneath it?

Like, when they were playing that stupid who-would-you-do game during the fire that dumb intern caused. Of course he’d do Pammy, he did Pammy, that was part of the point of dating Pammy. Who needed to hear him say it? It would’ve been a cop-out. So he picked someone else because why take a turn if you’re just going to say the person you’re actually doing? He’d figured Pammy would smack his arm and tease him about his “thing” for what’s-her-name, Angela, and then they’d have a little laugh at whomever she said—like Oscar or Kevin or someone—and they’d go back to normal. Like when he called Halpert and Michael gay for picking Kevin and Ryan; nothing serious, just some joshing and a good time.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to come off all cold and pissed at him. Come on. It was just a game for god’s sake. A chance to shoot some shit outside the office while it was maybe burning up inside (seriously, who sets a fire in a paper sales building?).

So after that he was paying extra attention to her. Not that he wasn’t before, you know. Just a little extra to make sure she wasn’t really that pissed. And…she was surprisingly hard to read. Like, he knew her. She was Pammy. They’d been together forever. But somewhere along the way he stopped knowing exactly what her facial expressions meant—maybe because he didn’t need to, they were always the same anyway—and now he wasn’t sure exactly what she was thinking. Like, what the hell? At least he hadn’t said Katy, that chick Halpert was dating now, even though he’d been thinking it real loud. He’d noticed when she got pissed about that, and he could understand it. He hadn’t meant anything by it, and damn she was being touchy, but like, that was part of dating too. You understood when you’d messed up and you fixed it.

So yeah. He noticed Pammy. And he was going to keep right on noticing her. No matter what she or Halpert or anyone else thought about it. Because he might not know why she’d reacted this badly, but he wasn’t going to be the bad guy here. Hell, maybe he’d even order some pizza tonight so she didn’t have to cook. And they could watch…well, not one of those chick flicks, but something they both liked. Something on TBS maybe. He’d heard The Breakfast Club was on tonight: she liked that, right? Yeah, that’d be good. Then they could put this whole thing behind them and get on with life.