Hunter picks up on the fifth ring after Ryan had been dodging her call for a month, because he feels sorry for the Jill with no Jack (or was it Jack that fell down the hill? Nursery rhymes had always bored him). Plus, she sounded kind of hot on the phone.

“Dunder-Mifflin, Ryan Howard’s office.”

“Oh,” and it sounds slightly like a tiny bubble popping surprised on her lips, as if she didn’t really expect an answer. Then: “Is Ryan there?”

“No, he’s in a meeting.” Hunter glances at Ryan through the closed glass doors of the office, alone, typing at his computer like he’s actually doing something important. That guy can be such a douche. Although he’s sure Ryan wouldn’t exactly appreciate this crazy ex of his being patched through, for the first time in the last million calls he’s actually lying for his own benefit. “Can I take a message?”

Kelly sighs like he just reminded her that her dog is dying of cancer. “Yes. Can you tell him that Kelly Kapoor called and that it’s really really rude to leave a girl hanging like this-” Then she expels a puff of air just like the first. “No, never mind. Just tell him I called?”

“Sure thing.” And he’s trapped between the curiosity to speak and the fear that she might soar to New York on a unicorn and scratch his eyes out with bubblegum painted nails, because from all the horror stories Ryan has told him, she seems like the type. If this is a Venus fly trap then he has the sneaking suspicion he’s the fly.

Curiosity wins out. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you put so much effort into Mr. Howard? He’s just a guy, and he doesn’t seem like he’s particularly worth it.”

She laughs and it takes him by surprise. “”You called him ‘Mr. Howard’”, she imitates his voice, poorly, “As if he’s…” her tone turn matter-of-fact. “You know he never made a sale here.” Then, “It’s complicated.”

“Not really. You seem like you could do better.”

Hunter wonders if you can go to hell for hitting on your boss’s emotionally vulnerable ex-girlfriend. Whatever.

“Thank you.” And for a second she seems just like a normal girl he hadn’t initiated a conversation with out of morbid curiosity.

“Hey, do you like live music?”

Ryan tells Hunter a month later that being fired has nothing to do with him taking out the guy’s ex-girlfriend to one of his gigs. Or the fact that he found his hand under her skirt while she giggled around a twirly straw deep in a fruity pink drink.

Hunter knows bullshit when he hears it. And this? This is a heaping festoon of fertilizer.