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Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim and Pam eat.

By mutual unspoken consent they walked back from Central Station towards the hostel, ignoring the siren call of yet another long wait for a short train ride. Jim could hardly say he had not enjoyed this last ride—Pam settling her head on his shoulder had not lost any of its charm by his actually being her boyfriend. But nevertheless it felt almost silly to wait now that they knew how short the ride from King’s Cross to Central (or in this case, back) truly was.

 

They meandered not in silence but in companionable quiet through the streets of Sydney, neither feeling any obligation to make small talk but each choosing to speak only when something of particular note caught their eye or occurred to them. Jim pointed out that they were approaching the Anzac Memorial as they strolled up the street towards it, and Pam laughed at the fact that they were indeed passing right alongside it again. Before they could reach it, though, Pam pulled on his arm.

 

“That place looks nice.”

 

“What place?” He was of course looking down at her, and not at the street.

 

“The Soda Factory.” She pointed. “I love diners.” She sounded so wistful, he almost said they should go eat there right then and there. “Do you think they have a soda fountain?”

 

“Hm…” he glanced at the sign. “With a name like that…nope.”

 

“Jerk.” She swatted his arm.

 

“No, if they don’t have a soda fountain, I doubt they’ll have a soda jerk.”

 

“I meant you. A jerk.” She stuck out her tongue.

 

“What? Here?” He grinned down at her suddenly red face. “I’m game if you’re game.”

 

“Oh, suck it Halpert.” She started towards the restaurant and he followed, but he couldn’t resist a follow-up.

 

“I think you have that confused with something else.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

**

 

She couldn’t believe he just…went with jokes like that. But then again, she supposed he’d always been holding himself back before. They couldn’t…well, the only word she could think of for it was flirt like this before. There was always the shadow of Roy. And now there was the shadow of Stamford, but she realized that was something else entirely. That was an obstacle they’d have to get over together; Roy had been an obstacle to Jim, but she’d kept on insisting that he was her future. It must have been hell for him; thinking about Stamford was bad enough for her, but what if Jim had kept telling her that Stamford was his dream job or something?

 

That would be awful.

 

They got a table by the door, framed in a window, and she was pleased to note that while there was not a soda jerk, there was a very exciting list of soda-themed cocktails. She had a feeling that some booze would be a real benefit tonight, with her thoughts as flustered as they were.

 

“So, Beesly. One night in Australia and we’re having American-style food?” Jim winked at her and she laughed.

 

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a diner anywhere.” She held up a finger. “Don’t say anything.”

 

“Would I do that?” He gave her his best puppy dog eyes and she went from laughter to a full chortle.

 

“Jim, I think I know you well enough to say that yes, yes you would.”

 

“Fair enough.” He was grinning, and she felt like this was a safe time to raise the question that had been on her mind for the last several hours.

 

“Jim, what are we going to do about Stamford?” She reached out over the table and grabbed his hand. “And I do mean we. I’m not asking because I think you have to do whatever it is alone.”

 

“Thank you.” He squeezed her hand. “Honestly, I don’t know. You said something about a sacrifice?” His voice rose to make that a question. “I’m not sure exactly what you meant.”

 

“Oh.” She fussed with her napkin in embarrassment. She’d hoped he’d had a better idea since then. “I just meant…”

 

The waitress came to take their orders and she took refuge in the momentary distraction of ordering a cherry cola with vodka and a chili dog.

 

“You just meant…” he prompted kindly when the waitress had taken her order and his (a local lager and fish bites) and left them alone again.

 

“I thought, if they had someone else from Scranton instead of you, maybe it would just…all balance out?” She gestured with her hands. “Like Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark?”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “You remember that Indy had to run for his life from a deadly trap after that? And ended up being faced down by natives with arrows?”

 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” She grinned. “Or have you take.”

 

He clapped a hand across his heart. “For you, anything.”

 

“I know.” She grabbed his hand again. “But hopefully not another round of pining.”

 

“Hopefully not.” He nodded. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard. OK, it’s the only idea I’ve heard. But it could work. Who though?”

 

“Dwight?” It was the first idea that occurred to her, not just because suddenly moving Dwight to Stamford would be the ultimate prank on him. “He is the branch’s best seller. Sorry.” She didn’t mean to imply that Jim was inferior to Dwight in any way.

 

“A thought. Unfortunately, when she gave me the transfer Jan said something about how ‘not being like that Dwight guy’ was one of my greatest strengths.” He tapped his fingers on the table, and it reminded her of her desk back in Scranton.

 

“Hmph.” She took the cherry cola-vodka drink from the waitress and took her first sip. “And I suppose it has to be someone in sales?”

 

“Since they want me to sell paper in Stamford, I would say so.” He grinned. “But I like the way you think. Can you imagine sending them Kelly? Or Kevin?”

 

She laughed. This drink was really good, and Jim was really funny. “Or Angela?”

 

“Oh my god, Beesly, can you imagine Angela as an ARM?”

 

“No!”

 

The rest of the night was definitely looking up.

Chapter End Notes:
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