"Oh, hey, Jan," he says. "I thought I smelled desperation and silicone."

The doorway they're crouched in is to a Borders, and even though the door's been broken into, weirdly, the merchandise looks largely intact.

Pam grins a little, because for just a second, she remembers that she’s glad to be moving to Connecticut.

“Oh.” Then: “Can you, like, even be that greedy?”

"Jim has a Packer," she jokes. "Hey, Jim, when you and Chad Packer go to strip clubs, who normally gets beat up first? And which one of you is the wingman?"

I know, right?!

...and at one point, he has to put his hand over Michael's mouth. But it's worth it, to do for Pam. Or he thinks so until Michael starts licking his palm.

Sometimes she'd draw me little funny pictures and leave them around the apartment. Like of cartoon frogs, or weird distortions of the Dunder Mifflin logo. One time she drew me riding a unicorn.

There were, like, articles in TV Guide about how Ryan was the devil, stealing Pam away like that.

He's talking to Marshall over in legal about it, and Marshall says, "Dude, it sounds like you want to marry her, is what it sounds like."

His nefarious plan is not to have a nefarious plan, though, and after a long moment she gets out of the car.

They slouch over to Michael's office in their bathrobes, Jim in red, Pam in blue, both of them still half asleep.

Michael's Taste Our Multicultural Friends Party is turning out less successfully than he probably hoped.

Karen moves her hands around Pam like she’s modeling a product on The Price is Right.

Voila! Kissing ahoy, Halpert!

"Hey, when you gay marry him, can I be your best man?"

Inside the box is everything Jim has ever given her.

I mean, what can I say? Ladies fictionally love me.

"Definitely," Dwight says, nodding along. "No question."

Michael bought Munchkins and is crying again. It's been a teary fortnight.