About a week after the camera crew arrived and the novelty of being filmed wore off, Pam was left feeling even more bored than usual in between Jim's visits to her desk. So, instead of shredding the paper Michael had used to test his new color printer, Pam turned it over and began to draw her stapler. She had meant to draw the first thing she saw, but she'd unconsciously glanced up at Jim after reaching for a pencil and knew that capturing the quirk of his eyebrows and his "Who, me?" grin was too ambitious a project.
So she'd settled for the stapler.
Jim had stopped by her desk later that day and, after popping a few skittles into his mouth, had looked down and seen the edge of her drawing peeking out from where Pam had hidden it along with the busywork Michael had given her.
Jim slid it out from beneath her planner and placed it face-down on her desk so the magenta Monotype Corsiva Michael Scotts wouldn't show through the white paper. As he studied the sketch Pam longed for an eraser, if only to erase the graphite smudges her thumbs had left along the edges.
"You did this today?" Jim said, looking up at her after studying her drawing for several long moments.
"Yeah," Pam said, rearranging the pens in her mug and shifting slightly in her chair. "You were making that sales call and I got a little bored."
"Oh, is that what happened?" Jim said, grinning at her as he flipped her drawing over and pretended to examine the different fonts and sizes Michael had been experimenting with. "Because I thought you just wanted to memorialize Michael's signature."
"Who wants my autograph?" Michael said, popping up suddenly behind Jim.
"I do!" Dwight said, and pushed away from his desk with such force that his chair rolled out from behind him and nearly crashed into Phyllis. Dwight rushed to Pam's desk and snatched a yellow post-it note. "Please sign it to 'Luke Skywalker' from 'Your Father.'"
Jim's eyebrows knit together, and his lower lip twitched. "Wouldn't that make Michael Darth Vader?"
"Darth Vader was a great leader who showed determination and a willingness to use fear as a motivator," Dwight said. "Just like Michael!"
Jim raised his eyebrows, and Pam did her best to maintain a deadpan expression as Dwight held out the post-it note and produced a black sharpie from his pocket.
Michael laughed and shook his head. "Well, I am a great leader, but I'm no Darth Vader. I don't have that weird breathing problem. Or a lightsaber."
"I have a lightsaber! I could loan it to you, Michael!" Dwight said, crumpling the post-it and tossing it on Pam's desk, where it landed on top of her drawing. "It's in the trunk of my car next to the bear traps! Wait here!"
"No, Dwight—" but Dwight had already raced from the room by the time Michael had begun protesting. He shrugged at Pam and Jim and smiled. "I have so many fans," he said. "I guess I should just let him humor me, huh?"
Jim tilted his head. "I think the expression is that you'll humor him," Jim said.
"That's what I said," Michael said easily, and chuckled to himself. "I am the funny one around here, after all. Everyone else here is a ninny. Especially Toby."
"That's not what that word means," Jim said.
"A ninny is a girly-man, and everyone knows girls aren't funny, and consequentily you are all a bunch of unfunny girls," Michael said loudly, leaning forward on the balls of his feet and grinning broadly. He glanced at Pam and hastily added, "Except Pam, who is naturally a girl and so it isn't her fault that she doesn't possess the male wit. You have other assets that are more important than what's in your mind, Pammy. Like your face. Which is the storage place of the mind, so it's almost as important."
Pam's expression didn't flicker as Michael winked down at her, and Jim grinned at the cameras as he leaned back against Pam's desk and crossed his arms.
Jim and Pam watched as Michael went back into his office, presumably to wait for Dwight to return with the lightsaber, which he did a few moments later. Pam couldn't bite down a grin—Dwight was also dressed in a long black robe.
"Oh, is that your Sissy costume?" Jim said innocently, and Dwight froze.
"This is my Sith costume, Jim," Dwight sneered. "If you knew anything about Star Wars, then you'd have recognized it."
"Oh. Well, I don't know anything about Star Wars because it sucks," Jim said. "Star Trek is much cooler."
"Oh yeah," Pam added, just for the enjoyment of seeing Dwight's face turn an unnatural shade of puce. "Everyone knows Trekkies are way better than those Star Wars losers."
"We prefer the term Trekkers," Dwight said.
"Wait a second," Jim said. "I'm pretty sure you can't be a fan of Star Trek and Star Wars. It's a rule. It'd be like cheering for both teams at the Super Bowl. You have to choose, Dwight."
Dwight glared. "Fact: Both Star Wars and Star Trek are superior to every other science fiction storyline ever, so they both rule."
Toby, who had been on his way to Michael's office, stopped to add, "I think a phaser would beat a lightsaber in a fight."
"Good point, Toby," Jim said.
"Prove it!" Dwight said, brandishing his lightsaber at Toby.
"Dwight, what have we said about weapons in the workplace?" Toby said.
"Don't worry, it can't hurt you," Dwight said, poking Toby in the chest. "See?"
"So you concede that a phaser is superior to a lightsaber?" Jim said.
"No! I didn't say that!"
"I think you just did," Jim said. "Pam, did you hear him say that?"
Pam nodded solemnly. "Sorry, Dwight, but you did say it couldn't hurt anyone."
"That's because it's not a real lightsaber," Dwight insisted. "If I had a real one, you would already be dead."
"Dwight, don't make death threats even in jest—" Toby said.
"Who's jesting?" Dwight said.
"I think you mean jousting," Jim said seriously. "It looks like one of those jousting sticks from medieval times. It's practically ancient."
"It's from the future!" Dwight said, and drew the hood of his Sith costume over his face and stormed into Micahel's office.
Toby looked at the closed door, and watched as Michael shut the blinds. Toby sighed and went back to his desk.
"I have to admit, our office does bear some resemblance to the Death Star," Jim said finally, turning back to Pam.
"I guess it'd be nice to have Monday off if the Jedis manage to destroy it this weekend," Pam said, hoping that she'd recalled the plot correctly. Roy had made her watch all the Star Wars movies when they were in high school.
"May the force be with us," Jim said solemnly, and they shared another smile before Jim glanced back down at her drawing and asked if he could have it. "I think Michael's too busy to sign anything for me, and I can't compete with Dwight's lightsaber for his attention."
Pam knew she was blushing as she brushed the crumpled post-it note off her drawing and handed it to Jim.
"Thanks," Jim said, and walked back to his desk. Pam watched out of the corner of her eye as Jim carefully placed it in his top desk drawer.
Pam smiled the rest of the day, and on the way home she stopped by Blockbuster to rent Return of the Jedi.
On Monday, Pam went to work early and used a post-it to leave a message on Jim's desk lamp: "Still in the Death Star, are we. Triumphed, the forces of evil have. Yes, hmmm."
Jim came in and read the note, then looked up at Pam and grinned. Later, after a trip to the restroom, Pam returned to her desk and found a message on her keyboard.
Meet me in the break room in ten minutes. I found Dwight's lightsaber. -- J
Pam smiled, and between calls she worked on a sketch of Luke Skywalker versus Jean Luc Picard to show Jim later.