khaki? khaki. khaki. khaki.
"You are about to enter a piece of history," Michael said to a bored looking Ryan, Jim, and Pam. "This is where Michael Scott went from a boy to a man," he informed the camera.
"It means he kissed a girl," Jim said to Ryan under his breath, who grinned.
"Last week," Ryan added as they both laughed. The camera found Pam, who was standing on Jim's other side, not knowing whether to smile or pretend she didn't hear the joke that wasn't meant for her.
"Um, Michael? Can't I ride with Roy?" Pam asked hopefully as Michael unlocked his door and Jim walked to the opposite side of the car.
"Yeahhh..no," he said, squinting into the sun. He fell into the front seat. Pam leaned in to the window. "Ryan, you get shotgun!"
"Why?" Pam persisted.
"Because I get to pick who's in shotgun because I'm the driver," Michael said.
"Not that," she said anxiously, "Why doesn't Roy get to go?"
"Well…I only have enough money for us. Besides, they're all guys and it would mess up the balance. Boys dancing with boys…" he glanced into the camera. "But they're queer as folk! Get it?" he laughed as Ryan climbed into the front seat. "Don't stop, get it, get it!"
"So Roy's not coming?" Pam was still leaning into Michael's window.
"Just get in," Jim said irritably from the backseat as he put in the earbuds for his iPod.
----
"Welcome! I understand this is the Dunder Mifflin group?" said the petite dance instructor, who was tan and had an indistinguishable accent.
"Yes. Yes!" Michael pushed his way to the front of his group. "I'm Michael Scott, manager."
"It's nice to meet you." She shook his hand and turned quickly away.
"Now let's get started. Dancing is a form of expression," she said, turning to the group who stood in a semi-circle. "It's an art form. It ranges from intensely romantic…like the Tango…to reserved, like the ballroom steps we'll be doing today. The main thing to remember is to-"
"Not step on your partner's foot!" Michael butted in. "Learned that the hard way! Not good. Do not do that…"
"Yes," said the instructor patiently, "But above all, remember to-"
"Have grace!" Michael interrupted. He arranged his limbs into what he assumed was a ballerina pose. "Like a ballerina." The instructor shook her head. "Look good?" He guessed. She shook her head again. "Have the right partner?" In the background, the camera could see Jim smirking, the first sign of life he'd shown all day. "Above all, dance like no ones watching!" Michael guessed.
"How about you let me say it?" The instructor asked. She placed a manicured hand on his arm.
"Uh, alright. Okay." Michael took a step back.
"Above all, don't hold back. Feel your emotions move your body. Feel the music. Love the music. Love the dance!" She finished dramatically. Michael and Dwight began to applaud. "Everyone should grab a partner!"
-----
"Feel my emotions?" Said Stanley. "The only emotion I'm feeling right now is annoyance with not closing my sale." He folded his arms across his chest.
-----
Kelly had had a tight grip on Ryan's elbow since the parking lot. He didn't look her in the eye.
Phyllis and Stanley paired off while Kevin looked sideways at Meredith, who was downing Advil. Dwight was trying to inconspicuously step toward Angela, who was to his immediate right. She looked both parts pleased and nervous. The rest of the office mates found pairs rather quickly, probably because they wanted to get it over with.
"Be my partner?" Pam asked Jim, who was looking standoffish with his hands in his pockets.
"Where's Roy?" He asked with a bite to his voice. She shook her head.
"Warehouse didn't come…?" She bit her lip as most of the people in the room were watching them, ready to dance. The instructor was telling them where to place their hands. "Please." She said quietly, looking into the camera and quickly looking away. Jim swallowed and took Pam's hand, putting on a fake smile for the camera. Pam looked over Jim's shoulder and at the instructor.
The dance instructor was partnered with Michael, who looked pleased. She began to teach the standard ballroom moves and the students were either grudgingly following the instructions or talking loudly and dancing with excitement (sometimes a mix of both, like Ryan, who was limply holding Kelly's hand, and Kelly who was grinning and chatting loudly with anyone who was within a few feet.)
"You're a good dancer," the camera caught Pam saying to Jim, who was effortlessly leading Pam in a series of spins. He covered up a smile with a cough. "I'm sorry about last night," she said in a very small, quiet voice. Jim danced them further away from the cameras but refused to look Pam in the eye. "You were right…you didn't misinterpret..." she paused, looking for the lens and continued more quietly, "our friendship." Jim was looking away and the cameras zoomed, searching for a glint of moisture in his eyes. "It made me rethink everything about Roy," Jim looked down at Pam and opened his mouth to speak, but
the view of Pam and Jim was interrupted by Dwight and Angela – who were standing unusually straight and were at least a ruler's length apart. He was easily a head taller than Angela, which made them look even more awkward.
"I'm pleased you don't have two left feet, Dwight," Angela said in a restrained voice. His hand was resting very, very lightly on her back.
"You're graceful yourself," he replied in a professional manner. But his hand gripped her hip a little closer.
By the time the cameras returned to Jim and Pam, they were both smiling.
---
"Yeah, I'm a pretty good dancer," Jim smiled into the camera. "Think it impressed anyone?"
--
"Look at Michael," Jim said under his breath, smiling. He turned so Pam could see. He kept stepping on the instructor's feet, who kept saying "Ow," which made Michael say sorry.
"Stomp, Ow, Sorry! Stomp, Ow, Sorry!" Jim chanted, grinning. "Forget ballroom, it's tribal dancing." They laughed.
There was a pause. Pam looked up at Jim.
"So, we're okay?" Jim looked into her eyes, the first time he'd done so since last night.
"I'm transferring." He told her. He stepped forward to continue dancing but she stood, frozen in place.
--
"Dance lessons kind of bombed," Michael said into the camera. "The instructor was pretty, but not a lot of brains behind that blonde hair. Not how I'm used to dancing," he shook his head. "but I'm sure it improved our company's morale. We all get along. We're loyal We're like a team. A big, dancing, team. We're like riverdancers. Except we're not from Russia. And we don't wear wood for shoes."