Ryan had taken a sick day, and Toby thought this would temporarily halt the loud conversations that had become a daily occurrence ever since Ryan was moved next to Kelly's desk. He was wrong. Thanks to her cell phone, Kelly could say anything she wanted to Ryan even when he wasn't at work. Thanks to her cell phone's poor reception, she was talking even louder than usual.

"Oh my God, Ryan, I miss you soooooo much right now! You have no idea how lonely it is without you here! How are you doing? I feel so bad knowing that you're sick. I can practically feel your pain right now. It's like we're spiritually connected! That's cute, if you think about it. It just goes to show how we're perfect for each other!"

Toby sighed. No reprieve for him today.

"After I'm done with work, I can make some soup for you. I learned a few soup recipes from my mom. Just don't eat too much, Ryan. I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but I think you might be putting on a little weight. No, I what I should have said is that…Hey! Oh my God, Ryan, why are you so mean sometimes? I don't care if you were joking, you should never say something like that to a girl! This is how eating disorders can start! I had a cousin who was anorexic, and it's nothing to laugh about! Wait, was it my cousin? It might have been…"

Toby looked at the form Corporate had faxed him. It was a sort of questionnaire for bosses regarding office productivity, and he had to get Michael to fill it out. Toby sighed again. The simplest task could be - and usually was - immensely frustrating whenever Michael was involved. Still, it offered him a break, however fleeting, from Kelly's incessant rambling.

"That's something we can talk about later, Ryan. Like when you finally propose to me. Hint hint!"

With the form in hand, Toby walked over to Michael's office. Michael was sitting at his desk, wearing a Russian fur hat that he had bought during an exceptionally cold Scranton winter. He had gotten into the habit of wearing the hat during work so he had an excuse to do yet another impression: Josef Stalin, complete with stereotypical Slavic accent.

"Ah, comrade Toby! What news do you bring me?"

"Umm…Corporate sent us this form about productivity at the office. You need to have it completed by the end of the day."

Michael pointed his index finger at Toby.

"Spy! You are a spy! This is one of your decadent Western tricks, isn't it? You cannot fool me, comrade Toby! You are trying to obtain classified information about the glorious nation of Dunder-Mifflin! You should be sent to the gulag for your crimes, you American pig-dog!"

Taking his hat off, Michael went back to his normal voice.

"Seriously, Toby, why do you hate me so much?"

"It's just a quick survey, and it's Corporate-mandated. It shouldn't take much of your time. Just fill it out when you get the chance, okay?"

Toby handed the form to Michael, who looked both pensive and frustrated as he tried to think of an appropriate comeback. He put his fur hat back on.

"Very well, comrade Toby. You may have won the battle, but don't think you have won the war! The People's Republic of Dunder-Mifflin will someday triumph against the evil Human Resources pig-dogs!"

Michael broke into a bout of laughter that was supposed to sound Russian but more closely resembled an evil scientist from a B-movie horror film.

With Michael cackling away maniacally, Toby took the opportunity to back out of the office and return to his desk. Kelly was still talking on her cell phone, and he tried his best to block her out and focus on his work. He almost didn't notice Pam as she walked by, carrying a bag of chips she had bought at the vending machine. With Toby's desk located so far away from reception, he was always glad to see her. There was no one else in the office quite like Pam.

She had a natural grace about her, the way she walked. Each step she took was elegant and smooth…until she stumbled on a box of printer paper on the floor. Pam didn't fall, but the bag of chips escaped her grip and went flying in the direction of Toby, who caught it with ease.

"Pam! Are you okay?" asked Toby as he rushed up to her.

"I'm fine. I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Hey, you caught the chips! Thanks, Toby."

"You're welcome," he replied as he handed Pam the bag. With a smile, Pam turned and walked back to the reception desk.

Thanks, Toby. Pam had thanked him. She had even smiled at him. It was rare for them to have the occasion to speak together, something he knew very well. Toby had thought about inviting her out on a date a few months after she called off her wedding, but the process of asking her turned out a be a task he couldn't bring himself to do. The notion of Pam accepting the date had seemed impossible to Toby at the time.

Thanks, Toby. Kelly was going on and on about the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy. On a normal occasion, that would be enough to make Toby ponder the benefits of being deaf. Today, however, nothing could wipe away the smile that had settled upon his face.

-The End-