Joan! She’s wearing one of those new blousy blouses (GAME. Blouses.) she’s been into lately, and she needs to talk to Roger. He’s been staring at that drinking bird everybody was so fascinated by a few weeks ago, but he perks up when Joan closes and locks the door. Just like old times! But no, they need to talk. She’s late. Like, Late™. That kind of late. And I guessed that last week, but it turns out the entire rest of the internet did too, so I can’t really gloat or anything. Roger seems to genuinely congratulate her, until she says that Greg’s been gone for 7 weeks, so it has to be a lil’ bundle of Sterling Gold baking in there.
Roger asks if she’s had her “rabbit test,” which is hilarious, but she says she can’t go to her doctor. Now, I have some trouble with this entire plot, just because it’s 1965, for fucksakes, a goddamn Ob/Gyn couldn’t tell the difference between a 3-week pregnancy and a 7-week pregnancy, let alone a not-especially-bright surgeon who probably snickered and giggled his way through the ladyparts classes in med school. Let alone anybody else. With that body and those industrial strength undergarments nobody would bat an eye if she said she was 7 weeks along, or 12, or 20 for that matter. Anyway, moving on, Joan actually apologizes to Roger, which is like the most vulnerable saddest girliest thing she’s done in ages. He promises her it will be okay, and they just have to take things one step at a time. He makes a call.
Kiernan Shipka did a lot of heavy lifting last week, so this week all she has to do is squee. Well done!
Betty’s sewing (!) when the phone rings. It’s Don, and there’s a lot less acrimony than usual between them – maybe that little incident at Gene’s birthday party did strike a nerve with her. Anyway, Sally’s still mad at him for not taking her in, but she’s still wearing her Christmas monogram pendant, so not really. It’ll just take a little spoiling from Daddy. Or, a METRIC SHIT-TON of spoiling: Don is taking Sally to the Beatles concert at Shea Stadium. I’m thinking this might be the scene Kiernan Shipka was talking about when she said her favorite scene was in a future episode, because she SQUEEEEs to a Beatles-appropriate degree, jumping around for a full 10 seconds, and it looks like she’s having a ball. It’s adorable that Don wants to take her. “You can’t be mad at me if I wear earplugs,” Don half-jokes. (This is a quick reminder that the dashing Don Draper is your grandpa. Korea vets thought the Beatles were noisy and needed haircuts.) Even Betty seems pretty thrilled. There’s no animosity when he tells her – not asks – that he’ll need Sally Sunday for the concert. She just grins and gushes “My goodness!” with a real smile. So that’s nice! I actually get a little worried already, and it’s hilarious in retrospect, because I’m thinking “Oh no! I bet he doesn’t come through with the tickets and that will be like the totally worst thing that could happen!
Lane gets bzzzzd. He has a guest in Reception. He’s on his way! Joan mentioned last week that he’d be taking a couple of weeks off for his son’s visit, and he’s super cute with his stuffed Mickey Mouse holding red white and blue balloons. Which are also the colors of the Union Jack, but that’s beside the point. Obviously Lane is thrilled to show his kid around this wondrous land called America, so you can imagine his disappointment when there’s a stern, aggressively British old guy waiting for him instead. They shake hands and exchange pleasantries. “Have you brought Nigel?” Lane asks. No, he hasn’t. The guys from North American Aviation show up and Lane introduces them. “Robert Pryce. My father.” Gotta love those stereotypically British gruff father/son relationships! “I’m here to bring you home,” Robert says without fanfare. Aw hell no. Lane wants his son, but they’re pretty much holding him hostage till Lane gets over his silly little American fetish and comes back to his wife in London. Lane isn’t going, dammit. But he will take the old man out for dinner, of course.
“So you’re saying you don’t want to go on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride?”
So yeah, those NAA guys! While all this father/son love is going on, Pete is thumbing through one of those documents where everything is blacked out except a few pronouns and punctuation marks. Senator Murphy wants the voters to know how much money he’s spending in California, one of them explains. And this keeps getting cooler for me, because I’m not just a nerd, I’m a History Channel 5-Part Series On The Apollo Missions kind of nerd, so I’m wondering what Buzz Aldrin is doing right now. So yes, anyway, Senator Murphy is a friend to Anaheim.
**VAGUE SPOILERS BUT ONLY IF YOU COUNT EPISODE TITLES AS SPOILERS** A few episode titles and descriptions indicate that Anaheim might be relevant to the impending shitstorm. **END KIND OF SPOILERS**
Also, the guidance and control systems in their planes will be used in commercial airlines, so, as Harry delicately puts it, “you never have to say the word ‘bomb.’” Always makes for a better commercial when you don’t remind people that there’s a horrible nightmarish war going on. Don, wisely in retrospect, suggests they steer clear of the defense aspect altogether, but they want something comprehensive. Once they say the words “advertising budget” and “4 million dollars,” Pete gets up like the account man he is and ends the meeting before anybody can ruin it. It’s the beginning of a new era! They assure him there will be fewer black bars in their documents as the deal progresses. Yay! Money! Harry says he better head out to the coast right away, and that’s been a little too much of a theme this year to mean nothing. Maybe he relocates before the end of the season? Maybe some people go with him? Anyway, Don warns him to give him the Beatles tickets before he leaves. Oh no! This will be the great tragedy of the episode, is that Don doesn’t come through for Sally! When everyone’s trickled out of the room except Lane and Don, Lane sheepishly asks Don to please for the love of Christmas save him from dinner alone with his dad. After all, Don knows how to show a chap a good American time.
Like for example at the Playboy Club! Except it’s actually Lane who’s the “keyholder.” The set is pretty awesome, and like, there were a lot of things wrong with that time, and I loves me some internet and equality and whatnot, but their version of Hooters was just so much cooler. Anyway, Lane asks their Bunny, Judy, if she could send over that lovely creature over there. He gestures toward a busty (GASP) black bunny. Don can make small talk with his brain tied behind his back, so he keeps the awkwardness to a manageable level. When the requested bunny appears, Lane beams and introduces her to his guests. Toni. He whispers that he tried to get them in her section but she’s just too popular, and she has to remind him that the hand he’s placed on her hip is a no-no in this joint. And now you think “Jesus, this poor loser, one of those guys who thinks the cocktail waitress actually likes him, how pathetic.” Unrelated: I want one of those candle centerpiece thingies SO BAD.
“What secret mystery shoebox???”
That big red door in Ossining opens up to two guys in suits, telling Betty they’re from the Department of Defense and they need to speak with her about her former husband. Ohshitohshitohshit. Don’s applied for government clearance, they tell her. It’s their job to confirm his application. Eeeek. We think of Don’s backstory as just that, a backstory. Insight into his character and motivations! And we forget that it’s actually kind of a big deal, and it’s not over just cause he told Betty about it. And Betty is freaking out a little. His lies were her lies, her kids are his kids. She stalls and fumbles a little but when they ask if Don is loyal she manages not to giggle, and when they ask if she has any reason to think he’s not who he says he is she manages not to go “ZOMG YOU HAVE NO IDEA.” When they leave, she immediately calls Don. “I just spent 40 minutes with two men from the government. Couldn’t you at least have given me some warning?” Because he’s the one who actually applied for this clearance. Except he swears he had no idea. She’s sick to her stomach, answering routine questions about his military service and his name. Uh. “What did you say?” Don asks, preparing to panic. “What do you think I said? Nothing.” Betty says, like it’s a dumb question. They both get paranoid at the same time and start talking like people who think their line is bugged, which is probably overreacting, and frankly it’s a little cute. Especially when he says, meaning it more than he ever has, “thank you.” I’m pretty sure this whole conversation takes place in Don’s office, otherwise known as the Room of Mysterious Mystery Secrets.
Don steps outside. “Megan, have I been contacted by the Department of Defense?” “Yes, of course.” Megan says. Duh. It was just standard information, the kind that’s already on his employment records. So she filled it out and he signed it without looking, just like a thousand other documents before it. Well, shit. “This is very serious, Megan,” Don says. “I should have been consulted.” Megan says it’s fine, there’s a contact number, she’s sure he can change anything he wants to. “If you need to fire me, I’d understand completely,” she says earnestly. Okay, so I’ve always liked Megan, but now that she’s Don’s secretary we’ll be seeing a lot more of her, and I’m wondering how important she’ll get. Don’s next thought: “Is Mr. Campbell still at lunch?” Ah right! Pete knows Don’s secret. I wonder if Don will ever find out that he knows Pete’s secret too, since it’s also Peggy’s secret!
Poor Lane, here he is, stalking that poor girl he thinks he’s in a relationship with. Except wait – he actually is in a relationship with her. “You know I love you, my chocolate bunny,” he gushes hilariously. She tells him it was pretty dumb for him to bring his dad here, but he says “I want him to know why I’m staying.” Aww.
“You won’t like her when she’s angry.”
“What kind of man are you?” A smug asshole in a white coat berates Roger. “You’ve used this woman, and you’ve ruined her,” he says, vaguely gesturing at Joan, who manages to sit quietly without saying “Nobody RUINED me, I’m not a fucking soufflé, I’m an adult and I’m sitting right here, you sanctimonious prick.” Jesus. Roger reminds him that they came to him for his discretion, not his judgment. He knows a guy upstate, but he makes Roger write down the info. “I don’t want it in my handwriting.”
Don’s in Pete’s office when he gets back from lunch. Whoa. Don motions him closer. “Were you aware,” he asks carefully, “that we applied for security clearance to the Department of Defense?” Like Megan, Pete’s answer is basically “Duh!” Everybody knew this but Don. “Did that go through already?” He grins. “Pete.” Don says, staring. Waiting…waiting…and here we go, Pete gets it. “Why did you fill out the form?” Don: “Megan did. And I signed it without looking because that’s what I do.” Ha. Well, Pete figures, Don’s made it this far without any problems, so this will blow over too. “There are THREE lies in EIGHT questions,” Don says. “What if they talk to his family? He was an engineer. My age is wrong.” It’s kind of cool to hear Don Draper talk about Don Draper that way. But anyway, Pete’s starting to grasp the severity of the situation, due in part to the fact that Don is FREAKING the fuck OUT. Pete has some connections somewhere that might be able to at least let him know how far they’ve gotten and how much they know. “This isn’t your problem,” Don says. “I just want some warning.” Say whaaaa? Don says he’ll do whatever he has to. “You can run the agency without me.” Pete absolutely can do no such thing and they both know it, so it pretty much is Pete’s problem after all.
“I hate this,” Roger grumps. He’s sitting with Joan at their diner. He doesn’t regret it, he just hates that it turned out this way. “What if this is a sign?” He asks, holding her hand. “Maybe I’m in love with you.” “So you want to keep it?” Joan asks, putting out her cigarette. “No, of course not,” Roger says. Well, there you go. If there’s something between them, he doesn’t want to start it off with a scandal. Yeah, Roger, that’s exactly what a knocked up girl needs on the way to her third illegal abortion, is more shame. But Roger says she could keep it and raise it as Greg’s. No one would do the math. They wouldn’t, and pretty much couldn’t. “It wouldn’t be my child,” Roger stresses unnecessarily, ruining any tenderness this conversation had stumbled into. “I mean, if he comes home.” “Jesus,” Joan says, practically addressing the audience. “Greg dying is not a solution to this.” No, Joan, seriously, it totally is, we all figured that out ages ago. “I’ll take care of it,” Joan says simply, like she takes care of absolutely everything else. And she doesn’t want Roger going with her.
Betty’s in bed by the time Henry gets home. He apologizes for being late, and she tells him that some “G-Men” were here earlier asking about Don. She doesn’t elaborate on what she said, or did not say, but she wants no secrets between them. So I guess that doesn’t really count as her secret, right? I’ll buy that. Also, can we please start calling them G-Men again?
“Well, shit. This is the opposite of how blackmail is supposed to work!”
Don and Pete and their skinny stripey ties end up in the elevator together so they can whisper furtively. Pete tells Don he’s got his guy looking into it, but really, even if they can’t stop it, surely they can ride it out! I mean, it was so long ago. “It’s desertion,” Don hisses. “There’s no statute of limitations. What am I supposed to do?” Pete, shrugging: “I don’t know. You’ve been doing it for years. I don’t have to live with your shit over my head.” And then, something I’d totally forgotten: “You know, I signed this account when you disappeared in California.” Oh my god, he totally did! While Don was having sex with a stoned 20-year-old, before a 3 week unannounced vacation, Pete was gettin shit DID. He spent three years taking them from cocktails to four million dollars. Don is not moved. “Get rid of it.” Well that’s pretty shitty, but I guess if I’m Don, I’m not worried about being an asshole right at the moment.
In fact, he’s worried about not being an asshole, to his kids at least. He’s called his lawyer in to get an emergency trust together for them. Like, now. And Betty needs to have access to it. Well, Mr. Lawyer guy doesn’t like the sound of all this. “And I’ll be honest, you seem really edgy!” Ha. Edgy. That’s the word.
Joan sits quietly in a waiting room at a doctor’s office, flipping through a magazine, generally being gorgeous and resilient and bulletproof. A nurse calls for Hillary, who’s 17. Hillary’s mom is distraught. Obviously. Joan tries for awhile to pretend to not hear her crying, but eventually looks up and asks “Are you all right?” Yes, she is. But Hillary seems so young, even though she herself had her when she was fifteen. “She’s very beautiful,” Joan says, like she means it. Which is totally irrelevant, but the social atmosphere of an abortion clinic waiting room is pretty unique, and this poor lady doesn’t have anyone else to talk to. She thanks Joan for being so sweet. “How old is your daughter?” she asks Joan. **crickets** Hillary’s mom interprets Joan’s hesitation as reluctance to share with a stranger, so she apologizes, but Joan says it’s fine. “Fifteen,” she says. Now, there’s no real evidence for this, but to me, that hesitation is a lonely, terrified but practical woman doing two kinds of math. One, she’s old enough to be mistaken for a mother of a teenage girl. How many more chances will she have? And two, how long ago was that first procedure? If Joan was in her mid-to-late teens, it would be about fifteen years.
“This is a pretty nice waiting room. I should probably have all my abortions here from now on.”
Dr. Faye interrupts Don’s attempt at a work nap. “I owe you a phone call, don’t I?” Don says. She’s not angry, just curious, and Don says he’s just snowed under at work and has to cancel tonight. “You look sick,” She says, feeling his forehead. “You have a fever. Let me take you home.” He’s reluctant but kisses her hand in a way that says “thanks for caring, I’ll miss you for awhile after I disappear forever.”
And in the dark corner of an empty bar we have Roger Sterling and Lee Garner, Jr., just shooting the general shit like always. Until! Lee reaches for the check. “I’ll get this.” Roger’s like, um, no, I’m the guy whose job it is to kiss your ass, you don’t buy me dinner, what the fuck? And yeah, some of us have pretty much been waiting for this since Lane said that sentence about Lucky Strike being 71% of SCDP’s billings. They’re out. Roger doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Are you trying to kill me?” He asks, not as hyperbolically as most of us would. He tells Lee they’ll move heaven and earth for them, but Lee says it’s not his decision. He’s only in this cause of his dad, much like Roger of course, and now that his dad is “incapacitated,” the Board is taking over. They want all their brands at one agency, and that agency will not be some plucky little upstart like SCDP. Roger’s asskissing powers are failing him as he realizes this is pretty much a done deal. “You don’t just end business with people after 30 years!” But yeah, these guys do. “We’re dead, you know that.” Roger says, and his freakout reaches new levels when Lee says they’ll be calling for the files on Monday. Holy shit. Roger begs, begs, pleads for him to stall for a month, just to let them get their bearings. “After all the lies I’ve told for you you owe me that!” Roger growls, banging the table for emphasis. And hmm. Do we mean tobacco-related lies? Or unconventional sexual appetites kind of lies (cf Romano, Sal). Was that a threat? Does he have real leverage? Lee points out that he doesn’t owe Roger squat, in fact. “You inherited this account.” Just like Lee inherited this company. Lee finally agrees to stall the board for 30 days, but tells Roger it won’t matter, they won’t win these guys over. He holds out his hand and says “No hard feelings.” Lee is barely out of sight when Roger reaches for his little vial of nitroglycerin heart attack pills. As he hurriedly shoves one under his tongue, he looks like an old, old man.
Don’s heard all those Superman rumors too. Nice audition.
But Don is about to one-up Roger on the freakout scale. Dr. Faye’s helping him into his building, and he gets even sweatier and shakier when he sees two guys in suits and hats in the hallway. He is FREAKING OUT, and Faye notices. He practically faints in relief as the guys walk up and politely ask for someone who doesn’t live in the building, then go about their business. But it’s already started – he’s having an actual honest to goodness by-the-books panic attack. He’s sweating and gasping for breath, so much that he literally rips his shirt open, which should be hot, but right now it’s just scary. “I think I’m having a heart attack,” he says, but Dr. Faye is the right person to have on standby. “Are you in pain? If there’s no pain, you’re not having a heart attack.” “You’re not a real doctor!” Don gasps assily, but she remains calm and tells him she knows about her dad’s heart condition. He pushes her away, tells her to leave, but she kind of has to stick around to make sure he doesn’t die. And again, Don pukes, and again, could we have an Emmy for whatever foley guy makes those puking noises? They’re extraordinary!
“No, wait, just give me a few more minutes, I’ll totally find your contact lens, I swear!”
Lane’s dad shows up at his apartment and finds a fully-clothed, bunny-tailless Toni waiting to go to dinner with them. She’s just adorable and pleasant and polite and so is Lane’s dad, only in that British passive-aggressive way. (Toni: “It’s a pleasure to meet you! Lane’s said so many nice things.” Robert: “…Yes.”) He won’t be going to dinner with the two lovebirds, sorry. Everyone pretends to believe that it’s not because of her, and Lane sends her ahead to the restaurant – so they don’t lose their reservation, but also so he can go “Nyyah! I kissed a black girl! So there!” to his dad. And he does! And Robert simply tells Lane he’s coming home, and emphasizes the point with a CANESMACK to the face! Seriously, this charming little Jeeves of a guy just thwacks his son across the face, no warning, no raising his voice, just THWACK. Lane ends up writhing on the ground, and just in case Robert hadn’t been clear earlier, he steps on Lane’s knuckles and tells him “Put your home in order, either there or here. You will not live in between.” He doesn’t remove his wingtips till he gets not just a “yes” but a “yes sir” from his fully grown adult son. Damn, Jeeves.
Pete’s watching TV and Trudy notices he’s all introspective and whatnot. She comes flouncing in, looking for all the world like a giant pregnant pink bath pouf, and oh my god how did anyone keep a straight face filming this scene? Ha! By the time she sits down, we’re less distracted by her nightie and can pay attention – she knows something’s wrong, but he can’t tell her. She snuggles up and he laments those people who just “walk through life dragging their lies with them, destroying everything they touch.” Well, I guess that secret love baby thing isn’t really doing anybody any harm, so sure, Pete, I’ll let you bitch about Don’s secret, which actually does tend to destroy things. Like long fought-for accounts, and marriages. Trudy: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I want to.” But Pete doesn’t want her to. Little baby Campbell – or rather, judging by the size of her belly, gigantic baby Campbell – kicks right on cue. “Just remember everything’s good here,” she says. I am still amazed that Pete and Trudy are hands down the most functional couple on the show.
“No worries, my little puff pastry! My lies are actually pretty boring compared to everybody else’s lies.”
Joan takes the night train home, staring straight ahead, revealing nothing. Is she relieved? Melancholy? In pain? Still pregnant?
Meanwhile, Roger’s at the office going through his cigarettes, his Stoli and his Rolodex, just checking up on a few old clients. In case one of them is like “oh right, we have a $20million ad budget we totally forgot about. You want it?” Unfortunately, this one in particular has been dead for years. Remember how Roger scolded Don in the finale last year for not valuing relationships? Well, Roger has been neglecting an awful lot of those himself, and he’s the one whose job it is to kiss people’s asses. He wraps up the small talk with the widow, tearing the rolodex card neatly in half and picking out the next one before he’s finished offering condolences.
Don’s lying in bed, recovering. The attack has passed, but Dr. Faye is still hanging around, telling him she might have a Valium if he wants something to help him sleep. “Why didn’t you tell me that two hours ago?” He says. So hey, there’s some humor, kind of. He thanks her for staying. “I don’t know what happened.” Faye thinks he does. Those men in the hallway – who did he think they were? “I’m tired of running.” Don says. Then he just sort of tells her the abridged version of the Great Don Draper Caper, sounding very much like a guy who’s just plain tired. “They mixed up the bodies. I wanted them to.” That’s a little closer to the truth than Betty got, actually. Faye: “My goodness.” Don: “Yep.” That about sums it up. Faye says surely he can get a lawyer, try to work something out. “I shouldn’t have told you,” he sighs. “But I’m just so damn tired of the whole thing.” She says she’s glad he did, then climbs into bed with him to spoon him to sleep.
Next morning, Don’s up and dressed when there’s a knock on the door: Pete, who stares awkwardly at his shoes as Dr. Faye passes him on her way out. He looks around the Fortress of Brownitude, clearly thinking “oh my god, what an absolute shithole.” He talked to his guy and it turns out Don hasn’t been flagged. If they stop the deal now, that will be that. “So I walk away from four million dollars and just keep this to myself because why?” Pete asks. Good question, Pete. He doesn’t really even get an answer, especially not to the equally good question of what the hell he tells Roger, Bert and Lane when they find out they just lost a really big, really promising account.
And then this conversation, which seems straightforward but could really mean any number of things. I guess that kind of goes without saying for this entire show though. Roger walks in and sees Joan at her desk typing away. “I tried to call you a million times-” he starts, but she just says, “I’m fine. Everything went fine.” Should she even be at work? Should she be on her feet? “Roger.” Joan says firmly. “It’s okay. I feel good!” Well, Roger feels awful. Joan: “We avoided a tragedy.” Roger’s still distracted – lest we forget, Lee Garner Jr. just pretty much shut down the whole agency over dinner. “We have a partners’ meeting,” Joan reminds him. Shit. He’s still clearly upset, but she doesn’t know the extent of it. “Come on,” she encourages him. “Life goes on.” Roger looks at her like a guy who’s thinking “Actually, no, it doesn’t!” but what he says is “You’re so beautiful,” which I think he means just as much.
“And furthermore, your Charleston totally one-upped my blackface performance at MY OWN PARTY!”
Well everything’s TOTALLY FINE at this partners’ meeting, that’s for sure! Nothing interesting going on in anyone’s life, professional or otherwise! Pete just dives right in. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I have some serious news: North American Aviation is moving on.” Everyone groans, but Roger, for whom this news is just shit icing on a shit cake, loses it completely. I don’t really even understand what Pete says about the “misunderstanding,” but he does mention that a General was insulted, which may or may not be inspired by Roger’s behavior with Ted Chauuughoghgh’s date at the Clios. Heh. Pete really falls pretty far down his sword here, and Don looks as guilty as he does relieved. “I didn’t pay enough attention,” Pete confesses, which is so not true. Don owes him big time. “That’s your only damn job!” Roger yells, furious, addressing Pete and also himself. “We have to come in here and have this catastrophe dropped into our lap because you fucked up!” “Hey!” Don cautions, valiantly standing up for the guy he just completely fucked over. “That’s the business we’re in. Accounts come in, accounts go out.” Bert even makes Roger apologize. During the awkward silence that follows, Lane announces that he’ll be taking a leave of absence to return to London and see to his family. “I can say with full confidence that the company is in a state of stability,” he assures them, hilariously. All matters financial should be referred to Mrs. Harris. And he’s out! Weirdest meeting ever. Roger looks around the room and laughs, loudly and bitterly. Everyone stares. Joan suggests they go down the status of the accounts. First up, Lucky Strike! Roger just grins hugely and gives everybody a ridiculous, giggly thumbs-up.
Dr. Faye stops by Don’s office to check on him. She’s been worried, but he’s fine. “Let’s get some dinner,” she says, but he thinks he should be on his own tonight. They’ll do it tomorrow. Hmm. Sorry, Dr. Faye, but you may have accidentally become the Woman Who Knows Too Much. Her evening of intimacy with freakout Don might have placed her in the discard pile. Cause sure, he just had Pete take the fall for losing a $4million account, but the important part of all this is that he can still be Don Draper. Just a few hours since sweaty, pukey panic, and it’s still just that easy to forget all about it again. And if that means not being reminded by her, then that’s what he’ll do.
“Frankly I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be thinking right now. How’s this face? Is this inscrutable enough?”
Megan of French Extraction comes in as Faye leaves. Poor thing, she thinks she did something terribly wrong, and she’s so sorry. And since she messed up so much, she wanted to give him this envelope right away: The Beatles tickets. Aw, remember how cute it was when we thought that losing those would be a huge tragedy? “See?” Megan grins. “Everything worked out.” Ha! Well, I suppose it did. Don stares at his tickets, then watches Megan putting on her lipstick in the mirror. I’m not sure what that look means. It might just be “Wow, must be nice thinking everything worked out!” Or it might be “Hey, bullet officially dodged, therefore I’m still Don Draper and could totally do this chick.” I’m thinking a little from Column A, a little from Column B.