Disclaimers: I do not own these characters whatsoever, please don't sue! This is also my first fic, please be kind!
Changes in Latitude : Chapter 1
"This is really turning out to be an awful day", thought Jim.
Firstly, he was spending a Friday evening at his place of employ. This in and of itself was worth a grimace upon further review, even if it was much more interesting than usual by virtue of Michael's Casino Night fundraiser (the combination of gambling and catering by Hooter's. All for the benefit of the Boy Scouts did, strangely enough, seem almost appropriate given the personality of Michael Scott)
Secondly, being at work might not be so bad, but for the fact that all his co-workers were also in attendance. Well, this point can also be parsed, if one took into account that deep seated emotional problems in others can often be mined for entertainment value. Fortunately, Jim Halpert is an expert at detecting and exploiting the rich seams of awkwardness and immaturity existing in such people as Dwight Schrute. Maybe this unpleasant factor could have been made to work to his advantage, had it not been for the real kicker of the night.
No, the third, and by far the worst reason that this warm spring evening was beginning to resemble an Earthly hell was because she was there. Jim shook his shaggy head briefly in a rebuke of this thought. In no way could he ever think of Pam Beesly as any sort of handmaiden to the devil. Rather, it was her angelic qualities that really tortured his soul. Dear God! That glint in her hazel eyes as she destroyed him in poker threatened to lay waste to his entire being. "Emo much there Jimmy boy?" he thought.
Of course, he was perfectly aware that her engagement and rapidly approaching wedding to Roy rendered her as unattainable as any angel residing beyond the Pearly Gates. Unfortunately, this fact did not alter his feelings in the slightest. This evening was going to be just a bit difficult.
"Jim Halpert, everyone. A round of applause." intoned Kevin, as Jim stood to leave the site of his demolishment at the hands of a triumphant Pam.
"Nicely done, Beesly." said Jim
"Hey, come back anytime, your money is always good with me!" gloated Pam.
She was always so adorable, even as she was slowly killing him.
Jim tossed off a lopsided grin (a trademark), and went off to find the bar. After ordering a gin and tonic (Banker's Club gin and generic tonic water… classy), He leaned against the temporary counter and took in the action of the room.
Dwight was working the craps table to his profit, and Jim couldn't help but chuckle when he stole a kiss from the normally staid Angela. The resulting slap delivered from the tiny righteous palm of the miniature accountant was even better.
Next, the blackjack table featured Phyllis and Bob Vance (of Vance Refrigeration, naturally) appearing to flirt intensely over their cards. Jim's spirits lifted a little at the sight of matronly Phyllis so visibly enjoying herself.
He then caught sight of Creed, standing behind an oblivious Kelly (Jim briefly wondered if "oblivious" and "Kelly" existing in the same sentence may actually be redundant, and one can be substituted for another for the sake of brevity), and Creed's quick hands scooping up a few chips from Kelly's pile at the roulette table. Normally, Kelly might be expected to miss them before long, if not for the fact that Ryan seemed to actually be almost listening to her usual prattle. Almost. Upon further inspection, Jim noticed an earbud and trailing wire snaking into Ryan's pocket. No doubt a hidden MP3 player lurking within had his attention.
"Ryan's got new music." thought Jim, reminding himself to ask the temp later what he might have downloaded.
Further down the bar Jim noticed the awkwardness that is Michael Scott, reveling in the fact he had two dates present, if only in his sad and twisted mind. Carol stood by uncomfortably as Michael made his inevitably awful jokes to a visibly mortified Jan. As Jan glanced away from Michael's comedic train wreck, Jim couldn't help but catch her eye and offer an eyebrow raise and head shake in commiseration.
Jan, spotting an escape, muttered some vague excuse to Michael and wandered up the bar to Jim.
"So, have you thought about the Stamford transfer?"
"Yeah, it really seems like a good move," replies Jim "but who could leave all this?" with a sweep of his arm to encompass the warehouse cum gambling hall.
A tight grin "You know, Josh could really use your expertise up there."
Jim, his lopsided grin almost etched in his face by now, nodded. He then made the mistake of glancing over to the poker area. Whatever mellowness he held had suddenly vanished and his stomach suddenly felt leaden. Pam was chatting excitedly with Roy, her features a combination of joy and adoration, the perfect picture of smitten bride to be and indulgent future husband. Jim's despair was mitigated somewhat by the radiant joy on Pam's features.
"Maybe, just maybe I can survive seeing Pam marry jackass Roy. " he thought.
After all, Pam clearly was happy with the situation. Roy, for his part, wasn't a bad dude. He never hit her, and could be pleasant enough in an uninteresting sort of way. He would often neglect Pam (his promise of "The greatest sex you've ever had!" as his sole Valentine's Day gift sprung unbidden and unwelcome to mind). But Roy's inattention did seem pretty benign, usually requiring a correctional rebuke to be countered with an oafish apology to resolve whatever situation the couple encountered.
The kiss that Pam planted on Roy next, however, was a bit more than Jim could hope to survive and expect to stay sane.
"You know what Jan, I'll do it. Stamford will be a great change for me" Jim hoped as he said this that there was some blood left in his facial capillaries, at least to prevent Jan from thinking she was offering promotion to someone who was about to spray vomit about the room or just die on the spot.
"That's great to hear." said Jan evenly. "We can get the transfer finalized on Monday; you can start the week after next and get two weeks in before you leave for Australia."
"Sounds like a plan" Jim tried to make that sound remotely enthusiastic.
"Excellent" Jan's smooth features turned thoughtful for a moment, "You really should take this opportunity to say goodbye, this transfer will be going forward at lightning speed and time will be limited."
"Yeah, loose ends and all that." not too wistfully.
"Yes, next week will be quite hec- "Jan's head snaps around to the bar "What the!"
Jim's eyes flared a bit at the sudden flash of bluish flame running down the surface of the bar in their direction, pushing away from the cushioned edge to avoid being burned.
"Whoopsie!" exclaims Michael, "Little shot mishap over here." Quietly, to the annoyed bartender "Do I still have to pay for that one?"
"I will definitely miss the excitement that is Michael Scott." laughs Jim. "I mean, you can't buy that kind of constant entertainment!"
"Right." mutters a clearly annoyed Jan, as Jim pulls her out of the path of an extinguisher wielding Dwight.
"Everyone remain calm!" roars the bespectacled salesman, naturally not realizing that shouting for people to not be agitated usually has very much the opposite effect.
Jim, standing back from the action, briefly watches Dwight douse the bar in fire retardant. Michael, characteristically, was ridiculing Dwight for his characteristic overreaction, "Idiot!" repeatedly escaping into the local atmosphere.
Jan, for her part, was torn between castigating Michael for somehow dumping his ignited 151 and requesting forcefully that Dwight cease spewing foam onto the bar and everyone near it.
Carol seemed to be exhibiting multiple conflicting emotions. On one hand, shock seemed appropriate, as her date almost flamed the refreshment area (the fact that this also happened to be in a room filled with very flammable paper products was put aside for the moment). But on the other hand, she seemed relieved for the distraction. Michael was completely occupied in supervising some sort of rescue (not really necessary), as well as trying to avoid any sort of blame, and clearly too busy to continue talking to her at all.
Looking away in embarrassment, "That's my boss." Thought Jim, "well, my ex-boss."
Jim decided that the mortification levels in the room were approaching terminal limits, and sought out some fresh air, not tainted with retardant fumes and shrill accusations. Perhaps the parking lot might provide the calm he desired. He ducked out the door and into the warm evening.