Chapter Text
“Everyone,” My new boss, Michael, says, “I’d like you to meet our new receptionist, Larissa.” Most of the people smile at me, although I receive some weird vibes from an old man sitting in the corner. My big brother, Jim, and my sister-in-law, Pam, smile the biggest of all. Michael directs me to my desk, front and center, before heading back into his office.
“The last thing we need is another Halpert around here,” Says the man sitting with Jim and Pam.
“Larissa,” Jim introduces me, “Meet Dwight.” Oh. I register that I have definitely heard his name before. This must be one of Jim and Pams’ friends.
“Hi, Dwight,” I say, moving to shake his hand. He shakes my hand, firm but gentle, as he looks me over. I notice he's pretty cute.
“You dress like Pam used to.” He states. I don’t know what to say to this, so I just nod and head back to my desk. Jim seems amused. As I sit down, an excited redhead girl runs up to me.
"Hi," She says. "I'm Erin. This used to be my job, but now I work at customer service. You're going to love it, it's so much fun! Plus, you already know Pam, she's a legend. Best is the Biz." I smile as she rambles. She, out of everyone in the office, appears to be the closest to my age. I'm twenty-two, almost twenty-three.
At that moment, a man in a blue sweater-vest comes up to me. "'Ello," He says in a horrible accent, "I'm the Nard-dog, pleased to meet you, Little Tuna." The redhead girl, Erin, walks away, clearly annoyed with the man.
"Little Tuna?" I ask, confused. I look over to Jim, and he just shrugs and smiles.
"Li-ttle-Tuuuu-na!" The 'Nard-dog' sings, confidently and in a high-pitched soprano voice. I just nod, judging this man immensely. Throughout the day, I respect this place less and less. In fact, there is only one thing that intrigues me. I wait until I'm in the car to discuss it.
"Jim?" I ask. I'm currently staying with Jim, Pam, and their kids while I move into my new apartment. "Who was that... Dwight guy?" Jim stops the car, quickly and dramatically.
"Why?" He asks, suspicion growing in his voice. I blush.
"I don't know," I say, "He's kind of cute." Jim looks at me, his mouth dramatically agape. "You're friends with him, right?" I say. Jim shakes his head. "Could you talk to him, for me? Please?"
"No, Larissa," He says, "Absolutely not." I look at him, begging him with my eyes. He does not relent, starting the car back up and driving us home.