Author's Note: Pam hates hunting! Let's find a way to exploit that and make her uncomfortable while Jim can play Mr. Hero. ;)

Jim smacks hard into Pam's back as she freezes and gives a sharp half-cry of horror. The rushing tingle he'd been enjoying since they met up in the parking lot below dissipates when he looks around her rigid form.

There on her desk sits a moose head - proud, regal, and quite thoroughly dead. And poorly taxidermied, he'd say.

He'd laugh, if he weren't so struck by the sheer revulsion carved into Pam's expression. He sees her looking so near enough to tears that it spurs him forward past her. With one quick movement, he grabs the large head by one antler and lifts it from the countertop (not an easy feat, because whoa this moose head is actually kind of heavy) and Jim pivots in the direction of where the culprit certainly lies.

And of course, Dwight is already bounding to his feet and storming near, one arm outstretched already to retrieve his moose head. "Give it back, Jim."

"What is this?" He jiggles the moose head more for affect than reference.

Pam approaches Jim's side, her face now stony as she glowers up at Dwight. "…And why was it on my desk?"

Dwight straightens himself so formally and he grants the two matching stupid looks. "It is an Alces alces, more commonly known in North America as –"

"It's a moose, we get it."

"Then don't ask such a moronic question—"

"WHY was it on my desk?" Pam sounds a little more heated this time, and when Jim glances down, he sees her cheeks flaring rose.

Dwight sighs and reaches for the antlers with both hands, which Jim allows him to take. Admiringly, Dwight looks down into the empty eyes of the moose head, "This was my great-great-grandfather's last sporting kill before he passed—"

"'Sporting', you've got to be kidding me," Pam scoffs and glares to the side, obviously offended by the term.

Dwight pauses a beat to allow her disapproval its moment, before he continues, unfazed, "…And it's a family heirloom that I've decided to gift to the office—"

"'Gift?'" Pam and Jim chorus..

"That's right," Dwight huffs as he deposits the massive head upon Pam's desk once more, and he seems to enjoy some level of satisfaction as she blanches. "It will restore some pride and honor to this place, once I mount it right above Michael's office door." He gestures above the portal, smiling all the while.

"Uh, yeah, you're not doing that," Jim flattens.

Pam pulls her coat tighter around herself, shifting subtly closer to Jim – and away from endlessly gazing moose. "I'm not staring at that thing all day, Dwight. No. It's disgusting, it needs to go away."

"It's not disgusting. Hunting is a reputable sport," he replies plainly.

"It's not a sport, it's disgusting," Pam repeats herself more forcefully. "Get it off my desk."

Dwight stretches blatantly between Pam and the moose head to smooth out the fur along its face. "Sorry, Pam, but it's staying."

One more look down at Pam's sickened face, and that's all it takes. "Nope." Jim presses his lips together firmly and shakes his head, before he moves between Dwight and the head.

"What do you think you're—"

"It's going back in your car and back to your creepy farm, Dwight."

"No! Jim!"

"Dwight," Pam steps between Dwight and Jim's retreating figure, her hands upheld to ward him back. "C'mon, you know a moose head has no place in this office!"

"And you call yourself an artist!" Dwight could spit at her feet with the look he warrants her, but he is far more preoccupied with chasing after Jim. "JIM! YOU PUT MY MOOSE HEAD DOWN, NOW!"

He bursts through the doorway between a startled Oscar and Phyllis, and Pam rushes for the conference room window as the conflict rages into the parking lot. Within moments, Dwight advances on Jim below, one looking furious and winded and the other too-calm and too-collected, and Pam really couldn't have painted a prettier picture.

"That is my property, Jim," Dwight growls matter-of-factly, his arms held out for the moose head. "If you do not return it to me, I will have no other choice but to call the authorities."

"Fine," Jim sighs, then squints. "…Catch!"

"Wait— NO—"

Dwight is not quick enough. With a heavy cough, the head hits his middle and barrels him over onto the ground. Above, Pam claps a hand to her mouth and guffaws into her palm with delight.

Jim can only grimace at the sad sight. He clucks his tongue and maneuvers around Dwight's prone figure and the sloppy moose head, all too eager to return to the office and to Pam's undoubtedly joyous face.