His hands grasped the steering wheel with mighty vigour. His hair was a shining brown banner against the cold January sky. The wind whipped his face and yet his overly small nose continued to burn with the tangy smell of the sea. Sharp eyes looked out through aviator frames over the waves, intent on keeping his vessel on a steady course through the dangerous Lake Wallenpaupack waters.
And though he began to feel the tendrils of seasickness pool in his belly - for the sea was no friend to a Schrute, who truly belonged more on fertile land than on sky, water or space - still he kept to his duty. He would not let Captain Jack down, not after being given such an important task (He would never forgive himself - the memories of his Pan-Am flight experience still haunted him to this day, he would not let another transportation-related failure join it). The days of fake dentist appointments were over for Dwight Shrute.
…Until the sensation of familiar fingers on his muscular arms tore him from keeping to his task. He turned his face to the side to glance upon the pale and austere face of Angela Martin - the sexiest women he had ever met. Soft words were whispered, an invitation to come inside and speak privately was given.
Words of rejection automatically flooded his mind but the sight of her auburn eyes beseeched him to stay quiet. All thoughts of sacred duty fell apart as vivid memories of what they had done at Jim's barbecue not too long ago flew to the forefront of his mind.
He watched as she waited for his response - her posture straight as a rod, her expression seemingly completely devoid of emotion (only he was able to see the hopeful twinkle hiding in her eyes). His eyes flickered downwards to the full, obscenely captivating mouth that part of him longed to familiarize with again.
Responsibility could wait for a while he supposed - as he allowed himself to be led away towards the welcoming, warm lights of one of the cabins by his most favourite person in the world.