Pam waited for the rest of the tea to cool down enough for her to drink while ostentatiously avoiding Izzy’s eyes. Fortunately, she had a perfect distraction from Izzy in the person of Jim, who was hanging back and clearly waiting for her to make the next move. Which usually she wouldn’t do—she couldn’t count the number of times her friends had asked when she was going to take the next step with Roy, first in terms of getting married and then, much later, in terms of finally getting out—but, well, it was that or acknowledge the smirk that she knew was on Izzy’s face even as Dwight was talking to her about how he didn’t drink tea because it would sap his manly essence.

Which, ew.

But also, it gave her the chance to actually talk to Jim.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him.

“You already said that.” He grinned, and gestured at the variety pack. “Mind if I…”

“Oh, you said you were getting me tea, but it was really for you, huh?” She grinned back. “Please. I want to know what improper tea a real Marxist drinks.”

He glanced at the teabags. “Well.” He shuffled them around. “Obviously, Plantation Mint is out, as I already said.”

“Obviously.” She nodded, then grabbed the Plantation Mint he’d already poured her and started drinking. “Go on.”

He raised an eyebrow but continued. “English Teatime would be a respectable contender, because Marx lived in London for a long time.” He poked at the teabag. “Except, clearly, when he was saying proper tea was murder, he must have been talking specifically about this kind of tea.” He flicked the teabag back in the box.

“I see.” She finished the Plantation Mint and moved on to the English Teatime. “I assume the same goes for Earl Grey?”

“Naturally.” He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “An English earl’s tea must be proper, and thus murderous, even if that particular earl was the prime minister who passed the Reform Act.” He shook his head. “And of course, that Reform Act still banned women from voting, so it couldn’t possibly be right for a true egalitarian communist to drink that tea.”

“Of course.” She smirked as she reached for her own Earl Grey. “Please, do continue.”

To her surprise, he stuck his tongue out at her, which only made her think about other things that tongue could do. She flushed, hoping she could attribute it to the heat of the remaining tea, and made a ‘hurry up’ gesture. “Or are you just stalling?”

“Stalin comes after Lenin who comes after Marx. Get your history right.” He winked. “And if anything, I was always more of a Trotskyite than a Stalinist.”

“Now you’re definitely stalling.”

He spread the Lemon Lift, Green Tea, and Constant Comment out in front of her, then started switching them around like he was playing three-card monte. “Right. So, Green Tea might seem like a strong contender because it wouldn’t be proper tea by an English standard, but it is by a Chinese standard, and anyway the name is just too basic even for a man who named his book on capital Das Kapital.” He flicked it into the box with quick fingers. “Also, a lot of contemporary Greens identify as Marxist, but most of them are more interested in environmental justice than labor issues proper. Progressives, but with their own non-Marxist stance.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought you said philosophy, not poli-sci.”

“I was in debate!” he protested. “Anyway, you’re an art major, right? You can’t tell me that logo is worth drinking.”

She hummed in agreement as she started downing the now-cooling cups of tea. The weird choice of all-caps for the words GREEN TEA did bother her.

“So. Two options left.” One was in each of his hands and he spun them in his fingers, drawing her attention again to how he moved them and making her blush again with the way her own thoughts were going. “Marx did want to lift up the working class,” he gestured to the Lemon Lift, “but I’m sure he didn’t think that such a lift would be a lemon.” He tossed it in the box. “On the other hand, Das Kapital is a thousand pages long, which means Marx always had a constant comment on society and the economy.” He ripped open the bag and dropped it in a cup, then filled it with water.

Over his shoulder he added a last thought. “Also, I happen to like Constant Comment best. Nice spices.”

Pam couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.