callofkaren | [For Pam]

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in-game,
pam

[For Pam]

Karen liked to think she knew Jim Halpert pretty damn well, and that was one of the reasons she'd decided on doing what she was going to tonight.

Jim was king of running away from his problems, and Karen had known he'd clam up as soon as he got Pam to the compound and settled in. She hadn't been surprised to hear Pam was in the crash room, and Karen felt for her. It was a little strange, but she did. A year and a half had passed since she'd shown up, had her own problems to sort through (most of which involved Jim) and some things had changed.

Of course, others stayed the same, or changed back, too. With an irritated thought toward Jim, wherever he was, Karen made her way down to the crash room.

She poked her head in the door, and smiled when she saw Pam. "Come on, Beesly," she announced, walking in. "I'm breaking you out for a little fun. Or, at the very least, to get you drunk." Karen held up the small bottle of moonshine to show Pam. "What do you say?"

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"Yeah," Pam sighed tersely, before she'd really given any thought to what she was agreeing to. Admittedly, both statements struck a chord with her. It'd been more difficult than she liked to let on, finding out everything that she had in the past few days, and Jim's absence, however understandable, didn't help matters much; she'd seen him deal with things the same way before, though, and after the year they'd had, it wasn't much of a surprise. "How, uh - how's he doing? You know, with everything?"

As hard as she tried to sound casual about it, there was no hiding the worry in her voice, even if his avoiding her probably made obvious how he was. Though she knew she couldn't be blamed for it, she couldn't help but feel bad, anyway. The situation wasn't fair for anyone involved.

"Not too good," Karen replied, after thinking it over. Lying about anything right now wasn't going to help Pam or Jim at this point. "But that's not your fault. It's this damn place."

She led Pam over to one of the smaller tables in a quiet corner of the Hub. It was going to be hard not to talk about certain things, and Karen was sure Pam didn't want anyone overhearing their conversation.

It wasn't an unexpected answer, but Pam frowned anyway, resting her head against her hand after taking a seat at the table. Even hearing Karen agree that it wasn't her fault, Pam still felt guilty about the way everything had gone, even that she'd disappeared before. She had no control over it, but the whole situation was almost too messed up to comprehend.

"I just don't get it," she admitted after a pause, her frown only deepening. "How any of this works, or why things like this had to happen. It's just so..." Trailing off, she shrugged. There was no good word to describe it that she could think of, and it wasn't as if she expected Karen to have any answers.

"Crappy," Karen filled in as she opened up the bottle, "horrible, sad, inconceivable, heartbreaking...take your pick."

She held the bottle out to Pam, offering her the first drink. "I made this myself. Well, my friend Paige and I made it. She inherited her brother's still when he disappeared." Taking his wife (Padme, of all people) and kid with him, but Karen kept that to herself.

"All of the above?" Pam offered with a dry laugh and a raised eyebrow, considering the bottle and its story before she reached out to take it. At least she hadn't been the only one. It might have been -- or, admittedly, it probably was -- insensitive, but there was a bizarre sort of comfort in hearing about other people disappearing. When it came to that, she'd much rather have been one of many than the exception to the rule.

Without a word of that, though, she lifted the bottle in a mock toast, then tipped her head back to take a long sip. It was certainly strong, moreso than she'd expected, but she figured if there were ever an occasion to get drunk, it was then. She was in no way in a position to get picky, either. "Not bad," she said, when she'd set the bottle back on the table. "You really made this?"

It was kind of hard to imagine someone who'd worked at Dunder Mifflin for years producing alcohol, but that might've just been her.

"Totally made it," Karen said, sitting up a bit straighter with pride. The moonshine was the one thing Karen could say she helped contribute to the island. Lazing around all day was great, but everyone needed a hobby.

"You should meet Paige, I think you'll like her. She looks like Kirsten Dunst and was part of the X-Men." Though, Paige had known Pam before, including having watched their show. Karen was going to need to smooth a few things out before.

"Kirsten Dunst and part of the X-Man," Pam echoed, her voice flat enough that it wasn't quite a question. It was becoming less startling, though no less strange, to hear about things like that. "I've heard about fictional people, and famous people, but no one yet who was both at the same time." She couldn't help sounding somewhat amused, though, and interested. The island kind of really sucked otherwise, but at least it had something decent going for it. "I'd like that, though. To meet her, I mean. She sounds cool." Especially if there'd be no awkward staring involved.

"Well, we sell this moonshine at the market, so I'll let you know the next time we're at a stall. You can stop by." Karen was pretty sure Paige was past the awkward staring phase.

"Have you met many other people? Like...people who knew you before."

"I'll have to do that," Pam said, though moved on quickly with the change of subject. Admittedly, focusing on something that could presumably have been less awkward was easier, but strange as it still seemed, there was something oddly comforting about talking to Karen. It wasn't like she had anyone else to go to, anyway, and if Karen wasn't weird with this, then Pam had no reason to be, either.

"There've been a few," she continued. Truth be told, she wasn't sure just how many there'd been, just that it had been uncomfortable with almost all of them. "I've kinda been trying to stay out of the way a little, at least until this all settles down more."

Karen nodded. "I totally understand. When I first got here, it was like everyone knew Jim, which wasn't exactly the best thing at the time for me." Suddenly finding out your boyfriend was married and expected a kid sucked that way.

She shrugged, and gave Pam an apologetic smile. "I promise I'll stop bringing up awkward topics from now on."

"No, it's... it's okay." The situation wasn't, not really, for anyone, but if Pam had picked up on anything, it was that her presence alone was awkward. She couldn't fault Karen for bringing the conversation back to what had happened since she'd shown up. Besides, it wasn't like they had any reason to catch up on what was happening in the office or anything.

Hearing that Karen could sympathize was, admittedly, the least bit relieving, anyway. Pam hadn't stopped to think much about what it must've meant, Jim being from so early and Karen being from so close to her, but in retrospect, that had to have been difficult, too. "That's what it feels like now. Only instead of everyone knowing Jim, everyone knows me."

"It'll get easier," Karen assured Pam. It was weird being on this side of the equation, and she didn't think she liked it any better than when she was the one feeling awkward and hurting. "I mean we can't go home or anything, but...it gets better over time. Promise."

"Yeah, I hope so." If only for the sake of it, Pam managed a smile, then reached out for the bottle on the table to take another sip. "This helps, at least. I don't think I've ever been so glad to be able to drink." Really, she just needed to get out of the Compound. That would undoubtedly help. It'd be easier to keep out of people's way, then, and chances were it'd be less obvious that Jim had no intention of speaking to her any time soon. She could deal with it -- she had before -- but that didn't make it easy. She was just glad she hadn't told him what she'd planned to on the beach.

"This place will give you tons of opportunities like that," Karen said, half grinning at Pam. "Lots of weird stuff happens. I mean, really weird — about a month ago, I spent a few days in Han Solo's body."

"Yeah, people were telling me about things like that," Pam replied, wrinkling her nose slightly in bemusement. She shook her head a moment later, hands settling on the table as she looked across to Karen. "It's all still pretty unbelievable." She paused briefly, then added, "If I had to be in someone else's body, I could think of worse people to be than Han Solo, though."

"It was awesome," Karen enthused. For about a second, then she wrinkled her nose. "I don't think Nick appreciated it as much, though. But then he turned into a woman like, a month later, so I guess it was even."

"Nick?" Pam asked, and only after she'd spoken did she remember Karen referring to someone by that name the evening she'd arrived. "Oh, is he your...?" She gestured vaguely with one hand. With the way everything else was going, she definitely didn't need to make an assumption that could lead to things being awkward with Karen, too.

"Yeah, he is," Karen said, and she was pretty sure her smile said everything anyway. It was one thing she really couldn't stop herself doing lately.

It also felt more than a little weird being the one in this position when things had been reversed so long ago when Karen had first shown up. Of course, she wasn't in a relationship with Jim, but still.

Pam had to admit, it was easier to let herself relax around Karen knowing that there wasn't a conflict of interest. She might not have had a chance with Jim now, given the circumstances surrounding her arrival, but it had been difficult to want to get too close to her back in the office, knowing that Karen had what she didn't. With as pleased as Karen looked, Pam couldn't help but feel happy for her, too. Whoever this Nick guy was, Karen at least seemed to really like him.

"That's great," she said, and meant it, too. "I'd really like to meet him sometime, if you'll introduce me." Probably she'd known him before, but Pam figured that Karen would know she knew.

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