Michael and Darryl are back at it. Darryl talks about the extra orders caused by the merger (as a result of which they have currently have all of one more salesperson), and the smaller warehouse crew. Michael responds by muttering. And it works, kind of; Darryl is annoyed, at least.
Pam sits alone in the break room. When Jim comes in for a drink, she ventures a rueful smile up at him and says, "Sorry I almost got you killed." Jim doesn't seem particularly amused. Pam adds that it was stupid of her to get back with Roy in the first place, and waits expectantly for Jim's response. After a pause, Jim says that she and Roy seem to have "a strong connection." Pam insists that it's over now. As he leaves, Jim scoffs, "I'm sure you guys will find your way back to one another someday." Because he couldn't think of anything meaner to say? Christ, Halpert, don't be such a pissy baby. Pam gives a more heartfelt apology, which Jim blows off.
Michael makes Darryl write down a figure on a piece of paper, "because that is how these things are done in films." And also because they don't want this scene to be dated in syndication in ten years. Or next year, given the current rate of inflation. Darryl obliges, and when Michael sees the figure, he seems sincerely blown away by Darryl's demand. No tricks or anything. "I don't make this much," he says, and shows Darryl one of his pay stubs to prove it. Darryl cracks up. "This is barely more than I make," he laughs. "You've been here ten years, dog!" "Fourteen," Michael quietly corrects. Darryl's cell phone is out again. "Some mofos got to hear about this one," he says. Michael calls another fifteen-minute break.
In a TH, Michael talks about the importance of perks, like the $100 gas card he gets each year. "Can't put a price tag on that." Yes, that's like a free week's commute.
Jim offers to buy Dwight a beer or lunch. Dwight turns him down, comparing himself to Han Solo showing up in the Millennium Falcon at the end of Star Wars. Indeed, he's suspicious of Jim's desire to buy him something, and demands, "What's your angle?" Jim just sits there gobsmacked.