MirrorKate: thanks for the review! Glad you liked it )
¡Disclaim!: I don't own anyone or anything that has been on NBC during the 8:30 time slot on Thursday nights.
"Hey, Dwight," Jim says, spinning around in his swivel chair.
"What, Jim," Dwight answers in a monotone. Jim flashes the camera a look that seemed a tiny, teeny tiny bit concerned with the fact that Dwight neglected to make his voice use the punctuation needed in the sentence.
That's probably the most awkward-sounding sentence you've ever read in your life.
"I found this on Creed's desk," he tells Dwight, handing him a small white business card. At least, he tries to hand it to him; he ends up sliding it across their two desks because Dwight refuses to take it from him.
"Question. How would anything Creed has help me, Halpert?"
Jim shrugs. "Read it. It just sounded like it might be useful, I guess."
He glances over at Pam, who stares at him and mouths, "What is it?"
Jim grabs a nearby Sharpie and scribbles a few words onto a piece of nearby computer paper. He looks it over, then holds it near the bottom of his chair. There, it'll be readable for Pam, but Dwight won't be able to see it.
She still had to squint, but Pam was finally able to make out, "I'll tell you later."
"I have no idea why Jim held the paper like that," Pam tells the camera, rolling her eyes slightly. "I mean, if Dwight saw it, why would he get mad over it?" She pauses and stares intently at the camera, as if it's telling her something. "Oh, yeah," she decides. "It is Dwight, after all."
Dwight stares sternly into the camera, holding the card Jim gave him as if he was a CIA agent showing identification. "Boppin' Bob's Bobblehead Emporium," Dwight reads. "Do you need a bobblehead fixed? Do you only need one more until your Star Trek collection is complete? Or are you simply a first-time buyer with a slight interest in the world of bobbleheads? Whatever your reason, check out Boppin' Bob's!"
"Apparently, Jim thought that my little Dwight could possibly be there," Dwight tells us. "If he thinks it might be there, then what are the chances that it is there? The chances are good, let me tell you." He pauses. "Plus, I'm only missing Mr. Spock. Once I have him, my Star Trek collection will be complete."
"Why am I not surprised that Dwight has a Star Trek bobblehead collection?" Jim muses.
Dwight casts Jim a look that seems as though thanks, disgust, and awkwardness were all shoved together into a blender and then smeared over his face. It's kind of hard to describe, as you've probably decided. Dwight shoves his swivel chair backward and knocks on Michael's office door.
"Michael?" he asks repeatedly. "Michael, can you open the door? I have a lead!"
The camera zooms in on Michael sitting slumped in his chair, his head resting on his hands. He notices that he has company, and then sighs.
"I," he begins, "I, am sick of this bobblehead. Whoever got it for him should just go buy him another one, huh? Doesn't that sound like a good plan?"
"It's ten minutes to five, Dwight," Michael calls out. "Can't we just keep looking tomorrow?"
Michael gets up, stretches, and saunters a little unwillingly toward the door. Suddenly, Dwight's face appears from between the blinds on the oversized windows around his office that Michael doesn't see a point for.
"Oh, my God! Dwight!" Michael yelps, stumbling backwards, even though Dwight appearing between his blinds wasn't as scary as it was odd. Clutching his heart dramatically, he hesitantly opens the door.
"Michael, I request getting out of work ten minutes early to go here," Dwight tells him, handing Michael the business card. He takes it and his eyes skim the small print. He tries as hard as he can to hide a smirk, and Dwight waits patiently, like a dog watching his owner hold a stick tauntingly above him.
"Fine, Dwight," Michael says, handing Dwight back the card to Boppin' Bob's. "But to make up for it, you hafta be here ten minutes early tomorrow."
Dwight nods absentmindedly, runs out of Michael's office, grabs his jacket, and runs out of the office door.
Michael stares at the camera, trying desperately to contain a laugh. "B-Boppin' Bob's!" he gasps, slapping his knees. "Who in their right mind names themselves Boppin' Bob! That'd be like if I called myself Moppin' Michael!" He pauses as he remembers the Halloween party a few years ago, when he came dressed as a janitor, complete with cleaning supplies, and did indeed call himself "Moppin' Michael."
"That was just a one-time thing," Michael insists. "I mean, this guy actually goes by the name 'Boppin' Bob!' It's just…weird."