Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Michael's not in the office yet, but he's already called Ryan on his cell phone three times this morning. Not that Ryan picked up, because Caller ID saves lives, but that was never a good a sign.

Which is why Ryan has decided that now would be a great time to meet with Stanley about some project Stanley had mentioned last week he'd like some help on.

Stanley was about the only person in the office who had a chance of derailing Michael from whatever he was planning. Or at least, refusing to participate and if he was working with Stanley, there's a good chance Ryan could get out of it, too.

It was a good plan. No, it was a great plan.

It was a plan that would have a lot better chance of working if Stanley was actually at his desk.

Ryan resists the urge to pace back and forth. Motion attracts predators to prey - he remembered overhearing Dwight lecturing on and on about it yesterday. Visions of himself as a gazelle and Michael as a particularly graceless rhinoceros flicked through Ryan's mind, which was ridiculous because he was pretty sure they didn't actually eat gazelle. But they had really thick skin and they probably trampled on them. He should have paid better attention in science classes. Maybe he should have been a scientist.

It's after nine. Stanley's not here.

Stanley's always here on time. It's part of what makes him Stanley.

This is bad. This is really, really bad. In his pocket, Ryan can feel his cell phone vibrating. In his head, he can hear the thunderous hooves of rhinoceros. Rhinoceroses.

Maybe Stanley is sick. Maybe...maybe Ryan should call him, just to check up.

He reaches for the phone on Stanley's desk, accidently knocking over the framed photo next to it.

He picks it up, glancing at it. It's...Michelle? Melissa? Something like that. Stanley's daughter. Ryan can feel his face pale as he remembers...

"What in Jesus's name are you doing looking at my child?" a
deep voice thunders behind him.

Ryan jumps, turning around, quickly. "I - I was just...I was going to call you. Normally you're here by now and..." His voice trails off. Oh god. Stanley is scary. Like...like a lion.

Stanley just stares at him, one eye brow raised. Ryan backs nervously away, clearing the path to Stanley's chair for him.

Stanley settles down with an audible thump, almost slamming his briefcase to the ground.

"Not that it is any business of yours, but I was delayed because I had to take my daughter to school. Because she missed the bus. Because she is in the eighth grade." Stanley turns to his computer, reaching over to turn it on, but somehow Ryan knows he's still looking at him. Looking at him hard. "And if I ever, ever catch you sniffin' round my daughter, boy, there are not enough angels in the world to save your neck."

"I - I understand. I would, I would nev..." Ryan's cell phone is vibrating again. "Excuse - excuse me. It's - Michael's calling me."

This time the call doesn't go to voicemail.