Michael’s leaning forward on his elbows, staring at her across his desk.  “That was definitely heroic and, if I may say so, romantical of you.  Well done.” While he shoots her what is meant to be a congratulatory grin, Pam stares down at the teal glass shards in her laps, still clutching the ice pack, trying desperately to pretend that the tears have stopped.

Post-Cocktails.

Written in response to the Evening Coming (aka the Scarf) challenge. Not usually one for prompts, but this one got me thinking.

She points toward the coffee pot, almost reassuring him that it's safe to take, no chance of hands crashing into each other, no touching involved.  Like the coast is clear, and she's telling him to go for it.

Spoilers through The Return.

Pam's got cold feet.  Literally.  Fluffiness ensues.