Old Habits
"Are you playing that game again?"
"Yes, mother."
Pam picked up a dirty sock and threw it at Jim's head. "Clean up your room."
"Sorry, can't. About to kill a boss here."
With a belabored sigh, Pam headed to the kitchen. "Making dinner."
"What is it?"
"You'll eat it and like it."
"OK, mom."
***
"Are you seriously playing that before work?"
"I only need a couple thousand to level. And look, I got a Unique."
Belabored sighing was something Pam was getting very good at. "You are certainly unique. How long are you going to keep this up?"
Jim's eyes did not leave the screen. Whenever he was playing, it was the only thing he truly focused on. "I downloaded a mod that increased my max level, so when I hit max level."
Pam closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. "And what is the max level?"
"Five hundred. Look, I'm 40!"
Pam threw another dirty sock at him.
***
It went on this way for... a while. Pam had stopped keeping track. While she wasn't enamored with this sudden game-playing by Jim, he didn't ignore her or work; it was just any other free moment he was utterly absorbed. "I don't get it. That looks so... old."
"That's because it's a classic. This game ruled my life for a year."
"And now it's ruling both of our lives. Why are you playing it again all of a sudden?"
Jim gave a casual shrug. "Dammit. I hate these little things."
A little awestruck, Pam watching Jim's fingers tap keys in quick succession all the while moving the mouse and left and right clicking at various times.
"I don't think so, you little shit."
"Jim!"
He replied absently, "Sorry. Little bastard was rezzing the other guys."
Silently Pam mouthed, "Rezzing?" Then with a tsk, she told him, "Next chance you get, you want to go mow the lawn?" One protest and she wouldn't be throwing a sock at him; it would be something much heavier.
"Let me just get to the next check point. Annnnd... There." He shut the game down, stood, stretched his long frame, and kissed her cheek. "A lawn mowing I will go." He saw her looking curiously at the screen. "You should try it. You might get hooked too."
"What? No way. Besides, if I get hooked, who will keep this house from falling down around our ears?" She gave him a swat on the butt as he walked away.
He turned and gave her a playful glare. "Watch yourself, Beesly."
***
"He was up until midnight playing it. I know this because I fell asleep and woke up to use the bathroom and he was still there." Pam could tell nobody else was really listening, but it felt better to vent. "I don't understand how guys can get so sucked into these things. I mean, he was running around with a giant sword killing these weird goat people. And they were bleating when they died. It was like sleeping next to a slaughterhouse."
Nope, they still weren't paying attention. Pam attacked her yogurt with gusto. "And!" she added with her mouth full. "It's so old! Came out in 2000, the graphics are all big and chunky. Also, I swear I've seen him play the same levels over and over again. I don't get it at all."
No, he wasn't ignoring her; he was just a lot more into the stupid game.
"What game?"
Pam nearly dropped her spoon when Dwight questioned her from within her personal space. "Dwight! I have warned you about doing that!"
He took a step back. "What game?"
Ignoring the blank stares from her lunch companions, who obviously cared nothing for her domestic abuse via video game, Pam waved Dwight off. "Nothing. Something like Diabolic."
And there was Dwight in her personal space again. "Diablo?"
Frowning, but knowing her complaints would do little to solve the issue of him being far too close, Pam shrugged. "Maybe. I didn't pay that much attention."
"It was either Diablo or it wasn't. Think, woman!"
Experience had taught Pam that when Dwight's state of agitation reached a certain level, there was little to do but agree. See also 'Oscar's sneeze'. "Sure. Diablo. That sounds right."
"The original or the sequel?"
But there was always a complication when agreeing with Dwight. "I don--"
"You said it came out in 2000? It must be the sequel. Is he playing solo or online?"
"Oh come on." Pam turned in her chair and fixed him with her best flat stare. "How am I supposed to know?"
His flat stare overpowered her own, if only because the creepiness factor was higher. "If you're so concerned at how much he's playing the game, I'd think you would know such an important detail."
Slapped with her own pettiness. But Pam's stare did not diminish in its flatness. "Because I'm not concerned. I'm annoyed. And guess what? You're annoying me too."
"Don't take out your domestic problems on me. If he were smart, he'd play online. Everyone runs cow levels."
Pam's flat stare morphed to one of bewilderment. She was used to Dwight suddenly speaking a foreign language, but this time it involved Jim in some manner; she debated asking him for details, then gained her sanity. "Whatever you say."
That was enough to appease him, and send him off to the other side of the break room.
Domestic problems indeed.
***
"Barbarian? How appropriate."
"Yes, but a singing barbarian. I'm a cultured brute."
Pam smiled. "I guess one out of two's not bad."
"I never thought you liked brutes."
"Just this once because I know you can't handle the culture."
Jim pretend grimaced. "Your silver tongue, it wounds me greatly, fair maiden."
"That's not culture, Jim. That's SciFi channel dialogue."
"Wow, you are merciless tonight."
"Just kill your little zombie midgets before dinner."
"I will dedicate all their destroyed corpses to you."
As Pam left the room, the sounds of dying zombie midgets started up. "Please turn down the sound. Those things give me the creeps."
***
It was Saturday. Pam was out shopping. Jim had a few hours to himself.
Sound: cranked. Chair: comfy. Glass: full of beer. Chips: ready for eating. Game: loading. Distractions: none.
In truth, he had no idea what had caused him to reinstall and pick up the game again. It was something that sat at the very back of his brain since he had stopped playing originally, and every once in a great while would poke its head out. Hey, wanna play? it would ask, and Jim had always politely declined. That is until two weeks ago.
Hey, wanna play?
I think I do.
It was obvious Pam didn't like how much time he was spending with the game, but if she had seen him when he played on its original release, she would be pleased at how well he was moderating himself this time around. Besides, he knew it would peter out in another week or two, and he'd uninstall it. Maybe he'd give Pam the honor; she'd appreciate it.
Until the sequel came out, then she'd probably be pretty pissed. There was no way he was going to be able to resist that temptation. He had already picked out the blanket and pillow he was going to use when he was sleeping on the couch.
Three hours of cow level runs. Life couldn't get much better.
***
"Frodolph?" Jim said aloud. Some of the weird names people came up with. This was one of the strangest he had seen in a while; most people were sticking with the letter-number combination names and an addition of X at the beginning or end. And now that stupid name was bugging him; it was like... "Frodo and Adolph."
"What was that?"
Thankfully Pam had laid off the nagging; it miraculously coincided with Jim doing the dishes every day and laundry on the weekend. "Oh just some guy that joined the game named Frodolph."
"That's... unique."
"I know." Jim glanced back at her. "Something wrong?"
"Nope!"
An hour later, Jim logged off and found Pam in the living room. "You know that person named Frodolph? I swear they were in every game I played."
"Strange luck."
An even stranger look on her face. "Yeah." He eased himself down next to her, his legs stretched out. HIs arm went around her shoulders. "Is this 'The Holiday' again?"
"I expected you to be playing that game for another hour."
"I can't win, can I?"
"Nope." She leaned into his side, wearing a soft smile, and continued to watch the movie.
***
< It's you, isn't it? >
< Do I know you? >
< Don't be stupid. >
Jim sighed mightily, and considered turning off the computer right there. Just a little peace and quiet, some game time to himself, escape from Scranton just for an hour. The Fates were not kind to him. < Dwight? >
< Of course it's me. >
And the name Frodolph made all the more sense. In fact, Jim was a little upset with himself that he hadn't picked up on it sooner. In double fact... "Pam!" She had known, or suspected, and hadn't warned him at all. That Beesly was a master of revenge.
After a moment, Pam looked in on him. Understanding dawned on her face. "It's him, isn't it?"
Jim looked back at the screen and slowly shook his head. "No warning? Are you really that upset with me playing this game?"
With a wide smile, Pam walked away.
< What do you want? >
< Just checking if you were any good at this. Only level 65? Have you seen the inside of a Hell level yet? >
< I'm playing for fun, and that does not include you. >
< You'll never progress with that attitude. No wonder your numbers are down this quarter. >
That was the last thing Jim wanted to read in the middle of his game. Without further typing, he logged off and walked away from the computer.
***
Unfortunately, it turned out that Frodolph was actually a good partner. When Jim's barbarian was lacking in the single target damage, that stupid werewolf made up for it. And Dwight played, of course, like a suicide bomber and ran ahead, tagging everything possible. Sometimes it was a pitched battle between two players and an entire map of enemies, and sometimes Jim hung back and watched Frodolph go down in flames. Often literally.
It didn't take too long for Jim to completely ignore Dwight's endless prattle. The text scrolling up the side could have been in Zapf Dingbats for all he read. And nobody talked during a cow level; there was no time for typing when there were cows to be slaughtered.
Until one line caught his eye.
< Let's do Hell. >
Jim raised one eyebrow, as if anyone could see the doubt on his face. < I don't know if that's a good idea. > Mostly because he figured they'd die in an instant with Dwight rampaging all over the place. < I'm not high enough level. >
< 75 is good enough if you're careful. >
< You're never careful. >
< The gear and xp will level you faster. >
< Fine, but the first time I die, I'm going back to Nightmare. > Anything to get him to shut up about it.
Much to Jim's chagrin, he didn't die before he had to leave. Also to his chagrin, Pam was as gleeful as ever about his painful dealings with Dwight.
"Have fun with your little friend?"
"You are an evil, evil woman."
Pam smiled, that 'I'm so pleased with myself' smile that he adored even when it was flashed at his expense. "Dinner's ready. Next time, maybe you can invite your friend over. You can have one of those LAN parties."
Heading to the table, Jim shook his head. Sometimes he wondered where she picked these things up. "It's fine, mom. I don't think his parents let him leave the basement." Aha! That was one she didn't know about yet. "What's that, Beesly? You're not hip with the big kids yet."
Pam sat down, and though she didn't have the same smile, she was still smiling. "You're completely right, Jim. I just don't quite get you boys and your video game lingo. Maybe, one day, when I turn 14 you'll teach me."
Jim pointed his fork at her. "I will have you know, I was in my 20s when I played that game."
"Well that's even better. You do know you're in your 30s now?"
One of these days, Jim would learn better than to get into these little battles with her. Somehow she always came out ahead. And that's what made her such a good partner in crime.
***
It was a little like back in the day, when they were sales partners. There wouldn't be time for communication, and online they couldn't use any silent signals. They had to plan ahead and trust that they'd each follow through on the plan. Trusting Dwight was not something Jim was very good at, but for the sake of his character it was something he'd struggle through.
< One second. >
< This isn't the time to get cold feet! >
"Pam, we're about to kill this boss."
"Do you want me to come and watch?"
"Depends. Are you watching 'The Holiday' again?" Silence from her brought a triumphant smile to his face. "Just give me ten minutes without interruption, and then I'm all yours for the rest of the night."
"All right. I won't even make you watch... this movie."
< OK ready. >
< Were you getting permission from Pam? >
< Do you want to do this or not? >
< Ready. Go. >
This was probably the boss he liked the least. Too many adds, too much poison, utter chaos. On Hell difficulty, chaos would have been welcome actually. This was... He didn't have words. It was constant potion chugging, move after move on cooldown, barely looking at anything but his health bubble. A quick glance every ten seconds or so to see that he was in the right position and that Dwight hadn't died yet, and
< YES! >
Andariel was dead, and neither of them were.
Jim didn't type anything. He caught his breath as he got his nervous jitters under control. Without talking, the loot was divided up, and Jim had to admit those were some really nice upgrades, and he wasn't sorry he had agreed to the whole endeavor. Of course, he had been thinking of a video game as an endeavor, so maybe that meant he was a little too deep.
< Promised Pam the rest of the night off. >
< Good job, Jim. >
Jim's cursor hovered over EXIT before he cancelled. < Thanks, Dwight. > Then he exited the game.
"Do you still want the rest of your ten minutes?"
Jim spun the chair to face the doorway where Pam was standing, and grinned at her. "Free and clear for the rest of night to do as you see fit."
"Excellent. Can you go to the store and get some ice cream?"
He nodded, still grinning. "Of course I can."
***
Work didn't change. Work and video games were two separate worlds. Worlds? Universes even. But then that was kind of the point. Until they were all walking out and Dwight said, under his breath, "Wait until you see Duriel."
His second least favorite. Great.
The Phillies played that night. Jim watched that instead, and the game only nagged him a little. Pam was happy, and so he was happy.
***
Hell was indeed hell. The previous declaration of dying = leaving was forgotten, and that was why Jim was snarling in frustration at another death in the catacombs. < This blows. >
There was no reply from Dwight.
< Those skeletons shoot me down before I even get to them. > Jim waited. < Are you paying attention? >
< We should get on voice chat. >
< Absolutely not. >
< We'll be able to coordinate better. I'll send you the info. >
< I knwo how you coordinate in these situations and I am not going to listen to that. >
< Nice typing. >
< That is exactly what I mean. You have managed to turn this game into a job. >
< Progression IS a job. >
< It's not my job and I won't make it my job. I am not going to listen to you yell for not using a potion fast enough. I'm taking a break. > Jim flipped his monitor the bird with gusto, then got up and walked away without bothering to log off. If he caught Pam watching 'The Holiday' again, he was going to scream.
***
"Ordering Chinese."
"Sounds good. Usual."
"Gotcha." It was a little strange that Pam was so comfortable with him playing, though Jim figured it was her simply delighting in his struggles with Dwight. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Jim logged on and waited for the assault.
At least his corpse was in town and he
< Done with your tantrum? >
< Done with your nagging? >
< Why are you being such a child? >
Jim leaned back and rubbed his face with both hands. The knot of tension that formed whenever he had to deal with Dwight was right there behind his eyes, and growing rapidly. < Because you make me want to cry on a daily basis. > He could almost hear the furious typing going on from the other end of his monitor.
< So are we going? >
That caught Jim by surprise. With his fingers resting on the keys, he wondered what the appropriate response was. Of course his first instinct was to continue to be snippy, his headache hadn't gone away, but the little druid on his screen was just standing there. Jim's hands tensed, and he typed, < Let me refill on potions first. >
< I have extra rejuv ones I made. > Frodolph began to hurl purple bottles to the ground.
< Cool. Thanks. > Luciano, the singing barbarian, picked up as many as were dropped.
< We just need to move slower, use LOS as much as we can, and run out if we get overrun. >
< OK. > Now that made it a day to mark on the calendar, Dwight suggesting a strategic retreat. Jim smirked. It really must be hell for Dwight, to be sharing and retreating.
This time, things went much smoother, and while it wasn't easy, they did eventually make their way through the sewer-ish catacombs to finish the quest.
< Who keeps a book in a sewer? >
< They're catacombs. >
< They look like sewers to me. Underneath a city like that, the place is probably crawling with diseases. >
The places Dwight's brain went; Jim didn't believe he'd ever comprehend completely.
Jim sat up suddenly, widening his eyes as he looked away from the monitor. His entire body ached, his bladder was full, and he was hungry as hell. < I need a break. Haven't moved from this chair all day. Hungry. >
< Meet back in an hour? >
< Right. > Log off. "Oh damn," whispered Jim, and hurried out to the living room. The Chinese food that he'd forgotten all about, and that Pam hadn't reminded him of. Did that mean she was mad, or that she was just letting him go about his business and deal with the consequences?
"Done?" She looked up at him with the familiar expression of patient understanding he'd been used to for the past few weeks. Her laptop was open in front of her at the table.
"Er... I, uh..." He pointed vaguely to the kitchen.
"I put it away. When you didn't come out for even a drink, I knew it must have been something really important you two were doing." Her eyes ticked back to her screen, then up to him. "Something else you need?" When he didn't answer, she closed the laptop and looked at him.
"You sit right there, don't do anything, and I'll be right back. Don't blink, don't fidget, don't even breathe more than absolutely necessary." He was off like a shot back to the bathroom; that was the one thing he couldn't put off any longer. Wash of the hands, and he was back, grabbing her, pulling her to her feet, kissing her.
Breathlessly, a little goggle-eyed from the treatment, Pam asked, "What was that for?"
"For being the best girl a guy could ask for."
With her arms snaking around his neck, Pam smiled and leaned in for another kiss. "You're adequate," she said after.
"That's enough of your sass."
Both laughing, they retreated to the bedroom (In the living room in the middle of the day? I don't think so, Jim.)
Cold Chinese wasn't the worst thing he had ever eaten. As hungry as he was, it didn't matter anyway. The food was going so fast down his throat he wasn't really tasting it.
"You want a beer?"
"That'd be great." Food bits hit the monitor, and Jim wiped it hastily with the hem of his shirt.
"Any idea how much longer you'll be?" Pam asked, setting a rapidly sweating bottle on the desk.
"Depends on whether this beer makes me angrier or more tolerant of Dwight. Or if I start getting too sloppy and he leaves, but that'd be backing down, and he probably wouldn't do that. Better mark it down as a late one." Food and beer were alternately in his mouth. "I've only got a few minutes to finish. Said it'd be an hour."
That huge Pam smile appeared. "Good luck with goat man killing." A kiss on the back of his neck, and she was gone.
It was times like these Jim took a moment to really think about what a lucky SOB he was to have her. Then the moment was up and he was finishing the rest of the lo mein, and taking a huge swig of beer as his game loaded.
Frodolph and Luciano marched across the burning sands, slaughtering anything and everything that dared cross their paths. Savage buzzards, giant maggots, giants with six arms, swarming clouds of insects... The desert was painted with bodily fluids. Until they finally reached their destination, a ruined city rising from the sand, or slowly disappearing beneath it.
The ancient stone doorway opened beneath their combined might, and the hot breath of ancient evil rushed from the gaping blackness in front of them.
< Need to piss before we go in. >
< You have the bladder of a five year old. >
< Back. It was the beer. >
< You can't be drinking! It'll dull your response time! >
< Too late. >
Jim zoned in, and was shortly followed by Dwight. Rather than a set of catacombs that one usually finds beneath a desert, this was a palace in decay. Richly decorated (as best they could back in 2000), elaborate arches, silken pillows, destroyed fountains, and the bodies... Blood splashed on the floor in every room, dismembered corpses littered the hallways.
They moved slowly; the light was bad, and there were lots of closed doors. In Jim's experience, a closed door meant a big surprise when it was opening, but not in a good way. Things were going well though. They handled the raiders and the ogres and the skeletons without too much trouble, making sure they didn't pull too much at once.
Once that floor was clear, they stood at the dark stairs, preparing to descend.
< Hold on. >
< Not again. >
< Nope, got another beer. >
Forgetting momentarily that this was Hell, they descended.
The floor was open other than the columns and arches that supported the ceiling. Open and occupied by a host of displeased foes. A host? A mob. An angry mob, with swords and clubs. This was beyond a doubt the worst harem Jim could have imagined.
Scantily clad ladies = good. Scantily clad giants with red skin and huge tumors = not so good and kill on sight. And so the two of them did, or at least tried. There were so many, Jim was keeping his back to the stairs to escape as his health dropped and he chugged another potion. "Dwight, you idiot!"
Frodolph was moving away from the safety of the stairs, wading deeper into the fray, further into the murderous crowd. Luciano leapt after him, gulped an energy potion, and whirlwinded. The results were less than stellar: nothing had died and now the both of them were in a very bad spot.
< run >
< to late > Accurate typing was not a priority. Not letting his health bubble drop to zero was the priority, and it was looking very grim. < were dead >
Four bolts of light flew out of the darkness and struck down the raiders that had encircled Luciano. A wide fan of arrows took down the five more enemies, saving Frodolph as well. Arrows, lightning, and magical bolts continued to rain down until the only things left standing were the two heroes.
< What was that? >
< Someone joined the game when we weren't paying attention. >
< You two are the sorriest harem girls I've ever seen. > Finally coming into view was a golden warrior woman, armed with a magical bow, and though her face was tiny and computer rendered, it was easy to imagine a smug smile there. < Next time don't bring so much melee to a ranged fight. >
< Panthea? Never seen you in a game before. > Jim was feverishly trying to defuse the situation; there was no doubt in his mind that Dwight was about to flip his shit.
< I play weird hours. Happened to see your game running and thought I'd join in. >
< We don't need any help. And we're not splitting loot. >
That wasn't quite as bad as Jim had expected. But he had no idea what else to say; he wasn't big on these random online "friendships". He had no interest in hanging out with anonymous people and sharing his life's details.
< Looks like you needed help to me. And it looks like you owe me for saving your butts. >
DKSchrute: *He could help us. He's a pretty high level.
It was becoming very clear just how serious Dwight took the game. For the most part, Jim didn't care one way or the other to have another person there as long as it didn't turn into some nerdfest (and Dwight put them halfway there) or adolescent fantasy (once again, halfway there thanks to Dwight).
hamncheese: *Whatever. How do you know it's a guy?
DKSchrute: *Because female characters are always played by men in an attempt to receive gifts from other men by pretending to be women and flirting.
Jim attempted to wrap his brain around that, and quickly gave up. It sounded a little too much like To Catch a Predator.
< OK, newbie. Try and keep up. >
This was when things got bad. In the end it was Jim trying to keep up as Dwight tried to prove his superiority, and the new "girl" kept up effortlessly.
< It's so satisfying hearing these guys die. >
The floor was littered with dead goat men. Their dying bleats had echoed over top one another for a good five minutes. Jim sat back and stretched his arms over his head, making his shoulders pop. < I'm going to hear that in my sleep. >
< We have the rune. Let's hurry and finish this. >
< Early bedtime tonight? >
< I could ask the same thing. Did you get permission to stay up this late? >
< You two know each other? >
< Unfortunately. >
< Unfortunately. >
< Are you related? >
Jim's eyes widened in horror. "No no no." < no no no no no no no no no no no >
< I would rather shoot myself in both kneecaps, the stomach and then the face. >
< Sure you're not? >
< Absolutely. >
< Absolutely. >
< Dammit, Jim! >
< OK, now I'm shooting myself in the face. >
< lol OK let's do this. >
The amazon provided powerful backup, standing at range and able to kill large groups with a few efficient shots. It was very useful in the tight corridors on the tomb that led to the final boss of Act II, and would be even more useful on Duriel itself. Jim hate hate HATED Duriel, and he was crossing his fingers this would be a smooth fight. There was only so much unpleasantness from Dwight he could handle in a week after all.
< Are you paying attention, Jim? >
< Yes, Dwight. Concentrate on your own game. I know what to do. > With luck, that plan would work because he really hated this boss. < I hate this boss. >
< Do you whine this much to Pam? >
< Who's Pam? >
Jim was just starting to declare that he wasn't going to talk about that when Dwight so helpfully chimed in.
< His fiancee. >
< And she let you play this long? Lucky guy. >
< Yeah, I am. I play this, she watches The Holiday. We're both happy. >
< You sound like a good couple. >
< It's sickening. >
Under any other circumstance, Jim might have been mad, but he just knew some of Dwight's disgust stemmed from bitterness and jealousy. < More sickening than having sex at the office? >
< You guys are funny. >
< We'd be super funny if none of what we said was true. >
< I need to go. Maybe I'll see you guys around later. >
hamncheese: *doesn't sound like a guy
DKSchrute: *Of course he wouldn't. It wouldn't be a very effective scam if it was obvious he wasn't a woman.
Once again, Jim tried to unweave the tangled transexual role playing web of online video games. It just wasn't worth the effort.
hamncheese: *Good night, Dwight. Mephisto runs tomorrow.
DKSchrute: *Good night, Jim.
Jim strolled out into the living room, and found Pam napping on the couch. The television was on HGTV, which he would take any day over that movie. Cooking would be his treat tonight then.
"It scares me a little."
Pam was stirring the pasta slowly. "Why is that?"
"Because I think I'm getting used to him."
"Jim?"
He paused from stirring the sausage to look at her. "What?"
"There's something wrong."
The gentle crease of concentration between his eyes deepened as he looked at Pam with concern. "What is it?"
Pam swallowed hard and wouldn't meet his gaze. "You... you..." Finally she looked him in the eye. "You're talking about Dwight a lot. I'm frightened."
"Beesly..."
She grinned and threw a dish towel at him.
***
It was nice to have a domestic breakfast. Eggs, toast, sausage, a nice cup of coffee, Pam with strawberry jelly on her shirt...
"Darn it. Every time."
Jim smiled as she worked to remove the mess without making it worse. "You are a piece of work."
With an absent-minded raspberry at him, Pam then asked, "Don't you have a game to play or something?"
"Actually, I was thinking about going to the gym for a little bit."
"And come home sweaty?"
"Just for you."
So it was two hours later that Jim returned home feeling every second of the time he had spent on the gym's basketball court. Too much time on his butt, shoveling down food and beer. "I know what I promised you," he said as he walked in, "but I really need a shower. I think I'm getting a beer gut."
"I could have told you that if you asked. I think it's from the video games more than the beer though."
"That's my girl." One of the very few times she had commented on his game-playing habit, but beer was going before his hobby.
One refreshing shower later, he walked into the living room to find Pam on the laptop. "Not even a second glance?"
"Very nice towel," she said without looking up. "Quit dripping all over the carpet."
"Beesly, I'm hurt."
"You're not hurt; you're practically drooling to get back to your game. Don't give me those puppy dog eyes!"
"Do you know how much I love you? Because I'm sure it's a value they haven't invented yet."
"Sweet talker. Go on then."
And he hadn't even had to flash her. There was something going on with Pam, he just had no idea what. But Jim knew he had to start watching his back.
< She's extremely adequate at her job. Overly cheerful. She must have endless patience to put up with him. >
< Is she cute? >
< I hadn't noticed. >
< Oh come on. You must have. >
< No, I do not consider co-workers in that way. Besides, she's not my type. >
< Dwight. > Jim didn't know what else to say, having logged on to this conversation between Frodolph and Panthea. Logging off wouldn't help; the only way to stop them would be to babysit Dwight. < Stop it. >
hamncheese: *Please do not talk about Pam to strangers on the internet.
DKSchrute: *Don't be such a nervous Nancy.
The one thing he would ever be laid back about, it would be this. Jim swallowed his pride.
hamncheese: *Please, Dwight.
DKSchrute: *Fine.
< So are we doing Mephisto runs, or are you two going to sit there and gossip? > Anything to turn the conversation to something less personal. If things kept up this way, Jim would quit in less than a week; it was getting to be too much like work.
***
"Pam, I forgot--"
"WHAT?" She slammed her laptop shut and stared at Jim with wide eyes.
"I forgot my-- Why do you look so guilty?" There was no mistaking the look on her face for Jim. She was guilty of something, but nothing terrible. This was more of a 'caught eating way too many cookies' look of guilt, which he was quite familiar with.
"No reason." She smiled too widely while the panic remained in her eyes, her hands resting on the laptop.
Guarding it.
"Beesly."
"Halpert."
"Don't play that game with me," he warned playfully, and wagged his finger. "What are you hiding?"
"Nothing, really. You don't have to--No, stop it." Her hands clamped down on the laptop as Jim tried to pull it away from her.
Normally he wouldn't consider bullying her in any way, but her protectiveness just wouldn't allow him to let it go. With a considerable yank, he pulled it from her. "Now let's just see what we have." When he opened the laptop, the screen coming back to life, Jim could only give Pam a questioning look.
To her defense, Pam blushed and looked away.
"Really?"
"Well..."
"Were you really asking Dwight what he thought of you? Beesly, that's just twisted." The memory dawned on him. "Saying we acted like we were related? I think I know who's sleeping on the couch tonight, and it is not me."
Because open on Pam's laptop was her own copy of the game running, her amazon standing in town next to Frodolph and Luciano. "Finally we meet, Panthea." Jim grinned. "Wait until I tell Dwight."
"Oh no! You can't do that!"
Suddenly, Jim began laughing. "I think we need to step back from this game. I just threatened to tell Dwight on you; what does that say about us?"
Pam joined his laughter.
< Gotta go. Sorry guys, something came up. > Panthea logged.
< Where's the newbie going? >
< She said she's gonna cyber with me. BBL >
< Jim no! That's not a woman! >
But he had already logged off.
He had a hot date with an amazon after all.
End
Story Notes:
This story is very personal to me. Not in a 'know my soul' way, but just for the idea. Don't know why I wrote it exactly, but thought I would share. I understand it's not to most people's taste (or interest), and I don't fault anyone for going "Psh, whatever."
Auto-Generated Disclaimer: Characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers, including NBC and Greg Daniels, and Blizzard Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.
Auto-Generated Disclaimer: Characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers, including NBC and Greg Daniels, and Blizzard Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
< text > = in game chat
Name: *text = private message
Name: *text = private message
Chapter End Notes:
1. Diablo II is a great game
2. Singing barbarians were a type of character you could make, and so were druidic werewolves.
3. My first Diablo III character I am naming Frodolph
4. DKS = OP (or guild chat says dks = not as op as you thought)(I still think dks = still pretty op)(shut up, guild chat--dks own me in bgs)
5. I am a video game nerd
2. Singing barbarians were a type of character you could make, and so were druidic werewolves.
3. My first Diablo III character I am naming Frodolph
4. DKS = OP (or guild chat says dks = not as op as you thought)(I still think dks = still pretty op)(shut up, guild chat--dks own me in bgs)
5. I am a video game nerd
sachiel is the author of 6 other stories.
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