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Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim and Pam finish their meal.

“But seriously, who?” Jim was wracking his brains and there didn’t seem to be an answer. “Phyllis wouldn’t move even if they doubled her salary: she’s too involved with Bob-Vance-Vance-Refrigeration for that.  And anyway, I wouldn’t do that to her without warning.”

 

“And Stanley would just look up from a crossword for a bit and grump ‘no’ before going back to it.” Pam was definitely a bit giggly—their food still wasn’t here, but her cherry cola was clearly more vodka than cola. “Todd Packer?”

 

“He does have the experience. Maybe it’s time for him to come in from the road.” Jim drummed his fingers on the table. “After all, he’s been out there…what, two years? Three?”

 

“Ever since the sexual harassment lawsuit.” Pam hiccupped. “This is really good.”

 

“OK, drunky, that’s enough for you.” He reached for her drink and she pulled it back towards her.

 

“It’s not been even one drink!”

 

“I still think you’re drunk.” A flashback to the last time he’d seen Pam drunk flashed through his mind. “I’m not going to wait until you’re at the second drink stage to cut you off this time.”

 

“Why not?” She cocked her head and he realized that he actually had no idea what her recollection of that particular night might be. He’d assumed for a while that she simply didn’t remember it at all; after all, how could she have acted the way she did if she remembered kissing him? But now he was beginning to doubt, as the red rose up above her shirtline (did that mean it had started below? A thought for another time, when he had the opportunity to appreciate it). It couldn’t all be just a reaction to alcohol. She had to be blushing. “I suppose it wasn’t the best kiss, but…” she clapped a hand across her mouth. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that.”

 

“I can’t believe you remember.” He took advantage of the hand across her mouth to grab the drink. “But nice as it was—and it was nice—we’ll have plenty of opportunities to do that without chemical assistance if we can just figure this out.” He pushed her water glass towards her. “Or even if we don’t. It’s not like a few hours drive is a worse barrier than Roy.”

 

“Heh. You’re right about that.” She sipped the water. “And yeah, I don’t remember…all of that night. But I definitely remember kissing you.” She took a gulp.

 

“It was pretty memorable on this end, too.” He put aside his own beer in solidarity and waited for the waitress to bring their actual food. “But we were discussing Todd Packer, and I don’t want to sully that memory with his ugly mug.”

 

**

 

She supposed some of why she was laughing was the alcohol. Now that she thought about it, while their food hadn’t arrived, the waitress had come by and replaced her glass, and so it was at least her second drink. She hadn’t really thought it was that strong but…cola masked a lot. So it was probably good she was drinking water. Also, she might be drunk, but she could see the point of Jim’s objection to thinking about kissing and Todd Packer in the same paragraph, let alone the same sentence.

 

“Todd Packer.” She shook her head and instantly regretted it.

 

“Does his very name make you queasy?” Jim’s voice had a teasing lilt, but she could hear the concern in it as well.

 

“No, that would be the alcohol.” She smiled at him. “But now that you mention it, if they wouldn’t take Dwight I’m guessing they wouldn’t take Packer either. Remember the sexual harassment case?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I remembered something about it. Jan was his direct supervisor.”

 

“Right.” He shook his head, and he at least didn’t seem to have any nausea associated with the action. They exchanged a look of frustration—but it was interrupted by the extremely late but nonetheless welcome arrival of their food.

 

She devoured the chili dog without a care in the world about how it made her look, which was probably for the best since she discovered twenty minutes later that chili had somehow gotten behind her ear (and probably other places as well, but that was the most improbable to her at the time). And as she did so she felt her mind begin to re-emerge from the mushy state it had been in. When they were done with dinner and had called for the bill (mindful of how long the food had taken to get there, they didn’t really trust the waitress to bring it herself), she spoke up.

 

“What about Ryan?”

 

“Seriously? The temp?”

 

“He’s not a temp anymore. Michael made him a salesman when you, uh, left.” It was still a sore spot.

 

“Huh. How’s he doing?”

 

“Distracting me, mostly.” His eyes came up to meet her with shock and she realized she should have phrased that differently. “He sits in your old seat, that’s all.”

 

“Oh.” He still looked annoyed.

 

“And that’s really all he does, because he hasn’t made a single sale yet.”

 

“Ah. That’s not really going to help us then, is it?”

 

“I suppose not.” She frowned and he squeezed her hand.

 

“Oh well.” Jim tossed down some money to pay the bill and helped her up. “Let’s go back to the hostel and sleep on it. Maybe something better will occur to us in the morning.”

Chapter End Notes:
I promise a resolution, but Jim's going to have to sleep on it to come up with it (I do actually have an idea). Thanks to all who've read and reviewed!

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