After a moment, Josh comes out of his office and testily asks to see Andy and Jim in the conference room. Once they've gathered, Josh intensely tells them that they're getting slaughtered and need a new strategy. Andy blames "the new guy." Jim's like, "I don't know what we're talking about." It's the game, of course. Josh asks what kind of gun Jim's using, and Jim replies that he's using a sniper rifle. Josh and Andy fucking lose it. Josh yells at Jim that you don't snipe in Carentan, and Andy heatedly tells him, "I'm gonna kill you for real This game? The game is over. I'm really going to shoot you." Ms. Pac-Man never makes people this mad!
Dwight returns to the branch in his bitchin' Camaro.
When Dwight gets upstairs to the office, he spots Michael perched on the edge of Ryan's desk. Michael, in a zombielike tone, offers Dwight some M&Ms. Dwight declines, saying that he's stuffed, but Michael insists, and watches as Dwight crams a handful into his maw. Having caught him out, he comments that he thought you weren't supposed to eat for a few hours after getting a crown, but Dwight covers that his dentist used some kind of crazy new fast-drying glue. Narrowing his eyes, Michael asks Dwight's dentist's name. Dwight takes like three hours before offering, "Crentist?" Not even Michael is convinced by this obvious lie, but Dwight sticks to his guns. Michael notes that "Crentist" sounds a lot like "dentist," and Dwight suggests that maybe that's why he became a dentist. Not just fictional, but with backstory. Well played. Michael demands to see Dwight's teeth, and Dwight, who can deny Michael nothing, opens his mouth and lets Michael inspect them. Michael, dismayed, suggests, "You should floss them." Heh. Dwight says he knows. There's an awkward silence between them, and then Michael says, "I'm glad you're okay," and wanders stiffly back to his office to reflect upon his betrayal. He interviews that business is like a jungle, and Michael himself like a tiger. And Dwight is a monkey who stabs the tiger in the back with a stick. But how will the tiger respond? Will he fire the monkey? Will he transfer the monkey to a different branch? He is momentarily derailed from his intense recitation with delight at his unintended pun, and then returns to his theme: we'll never know what's in the tiger's head, because we don't have the technology. Maybe we could get some clues if we looked around the tiger's condo.