INTERIM LOVER, ryan howard.

037 ⋮ why can't thursday last forever

ㅤㅤㅤRyan had a thing for Thursdays. When he was the Temp, he'd have lunch out on Thursdays. At corporate, he made sure to schedule as few meetings as possible on Thursday, and back when he and Rachel were hooking up, Thursday nights were his 'special nights'. It didn't necessarily mean anything at all, maybe it was one big coincidence that Ryan was happier on Thursdays than he was any other day. It was just something Rachel noticed when he announced that Dunder Mifflin Infinity was set to launch on Thursday night.

Back in Scranton, on this particular Thursday night, things were getting a little... wild. The Party Planning Committee were hosting a 'lunch' party at seven, Dwight was challenging a computer to a sales competition, and Jim and Pam were pulling a prank on Dwight. Oscar and Rachel were stuck with the worst job, standing in the conference room and advising Michael on his outfit.

"It's a tight fit," Rachel said bluntly.

"Is this why I'm here?" Oscar sighed, pinching his nose bridge.

"I probably wanna be here less than you."

"C'mon, guys. You're here because you want to help me," Michael whined. "Don't you want me to look good for this party?"

"Well, you could start by wearing a suit that fits you."

"Okay, Rachel," Michael drawled. "Oscar, surely you have something nice to say?"

"I think it looks bad."

"Dammit! This is a European cut. It's the best you can get!"

"How much did you say you spent on this suit?"

"A little over two hundred."

Oscar brought a hand to his forehead. At least this is a virtual event, thought Rachel. Michael had been adamant that he'd have to go to someplace called 'chatroom' in New York, but she'd seen the online invite. Rachel had tried to explain the concept once, but he accused her of lying, so she let him believe what he wanted. It would only be funnier if he drove all the way up to New York only to have to turn around again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Oscar, do not do that to me," Michael said, attempting to assert what little power he had over his accountant.

"Well, you've got two choices," Oscar explained. "Wear your other suit, or lose some weight."

"How much are we talking?"

Rachel contorted her lips. "What about seven pounds?"

"Seven pounds?!"

"Actually," Oscar began, "you'd probably only need to lose five pounds."

"Five?!"

"Better get your runners on," Rachel said humourlessly. With that, she slipped out of the room, ignoring Michael's shouts. She set her hands on the back of Dwight's seat with a sudden thud, causing him to yelp in the middle of a call before rounding the island to her seat. Rachel stared at the phone, half-expecting its blaring call—not that she was planning on being productive today, but she was hoping to hear from Ryan before his big night.

Oscar sped out of the conference room towards Rachel's desk. "Pretend I'm talking to you."

"You are talking to me," Rachel said, wriggling her mouse to wake the sleeping monitor. "Why? What's about to—"

"Rachel!" Michael hollered as he stiffly marched out of the conference room. Small movements, he told himself. Baby steps. A very expensive suit was at stake.