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.