Mad Men: Bad Things Come In Small Packages Too!

Nothing like a cigarette, a glass of wine, and a shoebox full of your husband’s darkest secrets to wind you down after a long day of being horrified and devastated.

So this is the week Betty finally gets a look inside Don’s Mysterious Drawer of Secret Mysterious Mysteries, and what she finds is something she really has no idea what to do with. Whatever horrible things she’s imagined over the years, I don’t think she was prepared for deeds, divorce decrees and double dogtags. She has plenty of time to snoop around, because Don is spending an awful lot of time with Miss Farrell, who may very well just be some lady, but she’s starting to get a little clingy and stalky for my taste. Peggy owns Paul in the copy department, which is old news to everyone but Paul. And Putnam, Powell and Lowe are celebrating Sterling-Cooper’s 40th anniversary…by slapping a big “FOR SALE” sign on it. That sound you hear is the proverbial excrement zooming full-throttle toward the proverbial fan.3.10 The Color Blue. Draper Residence! Don comes home in time for dinner. Aw, that’s nice. “Are you sleeping here tonight?” Betty asks as he joins them at the table with his own dinner: Bourbon, neat. And no, of course he isn’t sleeping there. This is just a quick ceremonial “See? I totally talk to my family!” driveby visit. She affectionately says she sees how hard he’s been working, but I guess we’d have to defer to Miss Farrell on that. (Also, sorry, Miss Farrell, for spelling your name incorrectly for weeks.) And yep, next scene, Don is back at her apartment for more work. Also, she has a gold star stuck to her face. Seriously, she does. Normal people don’t put gold stars on their faces on purpose, and they certainly don’t just fail to notice when they have one there by accident. I’m just saying. “Your service called,” she says, and what? Seriously? How many kinds of wrong is that? It can’t be more than a few weeks, and he’s already forwarding calls to his freaking mistress’s house? The one who lives two miles away? Who hopefully has a very dark place for him to park his very recognizable car so his wife and/or kids don’t see it? For fucksakes, Don.

That’s the happily oblivious face of a man who’s never heard the words “Bunny Boiler.”

Betty is in the bathtub reading The Group by Mary McCarthy while Don spoons post-coitally a few blocks away. So at least they’re both having a nice evening. Miss Farrell talks dreamily about a student of hers who posed that ancient, sacred stoner question: “How do I know if what I see as blue is the same as it is to you?” The correct answer, of course, is “Whoa,” followed by either “Are there any Cheetos left?” or “Shhhh, this is the greatest guitar solo of all time.” Don’s romantic answer is that his job is about boiling communication down to its essentials, and that he knows there is a blue that 45% of the population sees as the same. Way to harsh everybody’s buzz, Don. “Do you feel bad about what you do?” she asks him, and I thought she meant the whole adultery thing, but he says “no one feels as good about what they do as you,” so I guess she was talking about his job. She wishes she could have known him when he was 8. “I bet you were serious,” she says. Yeah, we don’t know much about 8-year-old Don, but what we do know is he probably didn’t smile a whole lot. Don says sleepily that he would have liked her. “Long curly hair. Nobody has that anymore.” Shut up, Newly Enamored Don.

At Sterling Cooper the next morning everyone’s waiting to show him the Aqua Net pitch. They act the whole thing out: Two couples in a car, one of the women loses her scarf in the wind, the other donates her scarf since her Aqua Net is keeping her hair from budging. (Peggy is playing the part of the Aqua Netted lady, using the Hermès scarf she totally did not send back to Duck.) Don says to simplify it – Paul’s elaborate staging contains too many “and then”s. Peggy, much to Kinsey’s annoyance, suggests they just have the one lady putting on her scarf to protect her hairdo while looking longingly at the Aqua Net lady. Yay, Don likes it, now come up with something for Western Union. “I love getting telegrams, but I never send them,” says Ken for no apparent reason. Don stares at him like he kind of forgot Ken knew how to speak. Haven’t had much for Ken to do lately, have we? I like that he’s the only person in the main cast who just kind of comes to work and goes home and beds secretaries and goes to baseball games. No angst or daddy issues or anything. You’re gonna want at least one Ken Cosgrove in a high-drama work environment like this one or the whole place will crumble under the weight of its own angst.

Is there anything a dork in an Hermès scarf can’t sell?

Pryce comes in to deliver Don’s eagerly anticipated signing bonus check. Don opens it and smirks at its contents. Pryce is pleased: they now know that the answer to the elusive question “What makes Don Draper smile?” is “a five thousand dollar check.” (That’s about thirty five grand in 2009 dollars, by the way, holy crap.) Pryce reminds Don that he’s got the final, prime-time speaking slot at Sterling-Cooper’s upcoming 40th anniversary party, so he better make it good. Don could write that speech with his brain tied behind his back.

Paul barges into Peggy’s office bitching at her for stepping on his toes during the Aqua Net meeting, by which he apparently means saving his ass. “No one’s keeping score,” Peggy says charitably. “I am!” Paul declares, with an implied “so there!” He whines that every time they work together it looks like Peggy carried the load, because she’s spontaneous, and she’s a girl, and she’s Don’s favorite. And also because, you know, she probably actually did carry the load. “Are you nuts? He hates me,” Peggy says about Don, and that kind of makes me sad. Anyway, Paul has thrown down a petty, douchey gauntlet for Western Union. They’ll work separately and let the chips fall were they may!

Mrs. Pryce has come to the office all distraught. “Ugh, he’s such a toad,” she says of Moneypenny as he leaves the room. Heh. Poor Pryce has apparently been listening to the same “ballad of dissatisfaction” from her for some time. She doesn’t like New York. This is not new information, but she seems genuinely homesick and he seems genuinely sympathetic. When he tells her that it will just take some time, she says “Not for you! If a superior tells you to be happy you say ‘yes sir!’” “Go on, let’s have it all, shall we?” Pryce says dejectedly. “It’s not London. It’s not even England,” she says unnecessarily. “That’s true – I’ve been here ten months and no one’s asked me where I went to school.” Ha! Rimshot. She doesn’t think it’s as funny as I do.

“Without going into too much detail, let me just recommend that you not shake my hand right this minute.”

Don and Miss Farrell are in flagrante, AGAIN, when someone knocks on her door. “Just a minute!” she says, and Don scolds her for answering and starts getting dressed as she pulls on a robe and lets her brother inside. “Get rid of him for fifteen minutes, I’ll run out,” Don says, but she wants him to meet Danny. Don and I both think it’s a bad idea, but she insists. Don’s like “hello, I was having sex with your sister literally two minutes ago, this is not at all awkward, nice to meet you.” Don, incidentally, looks totally adorable with his hair all floppy like that. Danny has apparently been fired from another job because of his “fits.” So we’ve learned that in 1963 you could get fired for having your foot chopped off, failing to have sex with an important client, or having epilepsy. It was a simpler time. Don wishes Danny the best on his way out and says he’ll call her. “He knows how to leave a room!” is Danny’s amusing impression. “He’s just very private” she says. And also married. To someone down the street. There’s also that. Miss Farrell promises to get him another job, “somewhere safe.”

Bert and Roger are reminiscing over old photos. “1923,” Bert says fondly, looking at a group photo of scowling white guys. “We didn’t know the soup was going to hit the fan, but we made it through.” “All these guys are dead,” Roger observes, bursting his bubble. Ha! Except for Bert and Doug Thompson, who Roger hopes shows up at the party and keels over – he once gave Roger a roll of laxatives and told him it was candy. Roger makes a lot more sense if you remember that he pretty much grew up at Sterling Cooper. Roger’s joking, but Bert’s depressed and doesn’t want to go. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea to have a chance to outdrink your clientele,” Roger points out, but then confesses he doesn’t really want to go either. “I have to give Don Draper an award for his humanity,” Roger says, disgusted, and reminds Bert that he’s the one who found Don, working at a fur company and going to night school. Night school! Who knew? Where’s the flashback episode of that encounter? And how about the one where he goes from new hire to unquestioned master of awesomeness in less than ten years? “Screw him,” Roger adds, in case we weren’t clear where he stood on the Don Draper issue. Bert is downright pouty. Roger says fine, it’s just a party, you don’t have to go. “It’s not like it’s our company anymore anyway.”

The phone rings at the Draper house, and Sally is adorably eager to answer it. Remember how cool you thought you were when they finally let you answer the phone? Anyway, she does it correctly (“Hello, Draper Residence!”) but nobody’s there. Amusingly, Betty and Don both immediately get all jumpy. Sally’s disappointed that her phone answering skills went to waste, but Betty says it’s probably a wrong number, people do it all the time. “But I heard someone, and they heard me!” Sally protests. “My goodness, Sally Draper, try not to take everything so personally,” Betty says, which I find completely hilarious. “Jees Louise,” Sally mutters into her homework, hilariouslyer.

A lesson for all you overconfident alcoholic sexist douchebags out there: Carry a notebook in your pocket in case of drunken epiphany. You’re welcome.

Paul and Peggy are both working late on the Western Union account. They each have their methods: Peggy free-associates into a Dictaphone (“The telegraph is traditional; it’s old but it’s good. *URP* …Sorry about that, Olive.”) while Paul gets really really drunk. He stares at the famous “Jackie/Marilyn” ad from Season 1 for inspiration. No, wait, I’m sorry, that’s masturbation. Ha, and gross. It’s also a little sad and quaint – the days of a grown man using an illustrated bra ad as a masturbatory aid are long gone, thanks first to Victoria’s Secret and then the internet. Anyway, he’s still not coming up with anything, so he wanders around yelling for Peggy. The janitor in the break room tells him she’s gone, so Paul helps himself to someone else’s lunch in the fridge (Sarah, Paul Kinsey owes you an apple). They chat about the janitor’s name, Achilles, and how weird it is. But Achilles says it’s a family name – you say “Achilles” at a family event and the men all turn their heads. And ding! A lightbulb appears above Paul’s head. He’s got it! Thanks, Achilles! Paul is convinced this is the greatest idea in the history of ever. He goes back to his office, pours a glass of whisky, and leaves it on his desk, taking the bottle with him to the couch instead. He snickers at his his wacky drunken antics and does a happy dance before passing out.

It’s the middle of the night at the Drapers’. Don sneaks his Secret Drawer Keys out of his briefcase along with a chunk of bonus cash. He dumps the cash in the Super Secret Drawer Of Totally Secret Mysterious Secrets, but Baby Gene’s crying interrupts him. He locks the drawer, drops his keys into his robe pocket instead of his briefcase, and AHA! It’s only a matter of time now, Don Draper! We knew this day would come. They do a great job drawing it out though – the next day when Betty grabs Don’s robe to put in the laundry, we hear the keys jingle, but she doesn’t.

Don’s on the train into the city when Miss Farrell appears. “Is this seat taken?” Aaaaiighhh! I expect him to freak out and tell her to go away, but he’s just kind of speechless. She sits next to him and they both pretend to whisper urgently to their newspapers for a few minutes Don’s like, um, so did you not know about the “secret” part of this secret affair? But she keeps it pretty quiet – she had to see him! She needed to talk to him! He said he’d call! Run away, Don! Run now! “Did you call my house last night?” is the first thing he asks, and she says no, of course not. “I don’t care about your marriage, or your work, or any of that, as long as you’re with me,” she says, grabbing his hand. Run. Away. Don. Poor Miss Farrell, what on earth makes you think Don is “with you” unless he’s actually physically with you? Don apologizes though, and looks at her fondly, and this is all bad news, all of it. She tells him her brother will be gone tonight – she got him a job – so Don can come by.

I’m not gonna be IGNORED, Don!

At Sterling-Cooper, Lois has a job too, still, somehow. So let’s review: Firing offenses include getting propositioned and not reciprocating, being born with epilepsy, and getting your foot mangled by a drunken secretary driving a lawnmower. Non-firing offenses include getting drunk and mangling someone’s foot with a lawnmower. Incidentally, one of the things that annoyed me about this episode is that there’s no mention of Sal at all. It’s kind of how this show works though – there’s usually a couple of weeks between episodes so I guess a lot of the fallout from that kind of thing happens offscreen. (See also: Duck/Peggy.) I hope Peggy and Pete got him an interview with Duck immediately. I’ll just pretend that happened until I’m told otherwise. Anyway, Lois is helping a frantic panicky Paul look for the imaginary notepad on which he completely failed to write down his awesome brilliant idea before he passed out drunk. “It’s always the last place you look!” she offers helpfully, which, yes, that’s pretty much true BY DEFINITION, Lois, and it doesn’t help Paul any.

Pryce rehearses his 40th anniversary speech for Moneypenny. “Rousing, sir,” he proclaims. Pryce: “Churchill rousing, or Hitler rousing?” Ha. Moneypenny doesn’t have time to answer – the phone rings, and it’s London Calling. Harold Ford wants a status report on their little party, and Pryce is happy to tell him it’s coming along just fine, but that Bert Cooper will be in absentia. “Well that won’t do!” Ford says Britishly. They need him there for appearances’ sake, since this party is primarily about attracting a buyer. [Scooby Doo voice] Arooooo? [/Scooby Doo voice] Pryce is genuinely upset. “But we’ve reduced the staff and increased the revenue by 20%!” And they’re like, yeah, duh, that’s why we’re selling it, good job priming it up for the next buyer. I think Pryce rather likes it there and he’s taking this personally. So um. Bad timing on that contract, huh Don? Think Grey’s in the market for a new branch? Will there be a recreation of the Don-Duck dick-measuring contest from last season’s finale, only with a different winner? Yikes.

Betty calls Henry’s office and angrily asks if he called her house last night. Henry’s like, no, and if you’re going to call me, just call me, don’t make excuses. He manages to make her feel pretty stupid. She’s embarrassed and hangs up, glancing reflexively for a moment at the Drawer of Mystery.

So now Pryce has to find a way to talk Bert Cooper into showing up at the party. He interrupts Bert as he’s watching his soaps, which, ha, of course that’s what he does all day, sits in his weird Japanese office and watches General Hospital. Anyway, Pryce, who, lest we forget, is pretty high up the ladder in the business of persuasion, tries the “reward yourself for how far you’ve come!” angle, but ultimately settles on “If you don’t show up, everybody will think you’re too old and sick to leave the house.” This approach works immediately and obviously. “Who told you I was vain?” Bert chuckles. I love Bert so much. Go read the interview with the actor at amctv.com. Actually, go read all of them.

And the Super Secret Key Ring saga continues! Betty goes through the whole laundry process before she finally sits down to read and notices something clanging around noisily in the dryer. When she digs out the keys, she knows exactly what she’s found and runs straight to the study. After the key turns with a satisfying *click*, she beams. Success! At last! After all these years! Suck it, Secret Drawer of Mysterious Mystery Secrets!

Before…

She opens it and pretty much ignores the cash, because BO-RING! She heads straight for the good stuff in the shoebox. At first it’s the photos, which are sort of confusing – who are Dick and Adam, and why does one of them look so much like Don? But this isn’t especially revealing yet, just odd. People have cousins and whatnot, and it’s not a secret that Don’s past is a secret. Things get a little more interesting when she finds two sets of dog tags – Don Draper’s and Dick Whitman’s (the former he stole off a mangled corpse in the war; the latter I think were in the “I’m gonna kill myself now, don’t blame yourself or anything” box his brother gave him). And then the really juicy stuff. Betty was probably prepared for love notes or phone numbers or something, but this stuff represents a whole new kind of betrayal. A deed to a property in Long Beach, California, purchased on behalf of Anna Draper (we spent some time there during his self-indulgent California finding-himself sabbatical last season). And the capper: A decree of divorce. Donald and Anna Draper. Dated probably somewhere around the time he and Betty got engaged (we also saw a flashback of a wide-eyed young besotted Don asking Anna for a divorce so he could marry his dream girl). This is what finally floors her. She sort of falls into the desk chair and stares at it, heartbroken. Be careful what you wish for, Betty. That’s a lesson you’d think she’d learn pretty much every episode this season, but there’s no closing Pandora’s Shoebox now.

…And After!

We cut from Betty shutting the office door to Don opening Miss Farrell’s door. Sigh. Turns out Danny’s still there after all, and he needs a ride to his new job in Bedford. Don offers to take him. “Let me do this for you,” he tells Miss Farrell earnestly, and I want to smack him. It just doesn’t seem right that he’s this attached to her already – maybe it’s just been awhile since, say, Midge, but it feels odd that he’s so emotionally involved. Anyway, I think it’s more about her down-on-his-luck brother than anything else, because Don kind of has some unresolved issues with those.

And Betty waits. And waits. The Shoebox of Deceitful Super Secret Deception sits on the table while she sits in the dark, ready for a serious hardcore confrontation. But Don’s busy. He’s been working so hard and everything, you know.

“Don’t you need to gas up?” Danny says as he and Don drive out to the middle of nowhere. Don’s like, uh, no. So Danny’s like, fine, I was going to ditch you at a gas station or something but I might as well tell you – “I’m not going to Bedford.” At first Don’s all paternal about it: “Well I am. So I guess you have to.” Danny gets annoyed – why should Don care? And he doesn’t need his pity or his condescension either. “Julius Caesar had epilepsy, and he ran Rome!” Don: “Things didn’t turn out so well for him.” But Danny has made up his mind. “I’m 25 years old, Don. I don’t want to be cleaning toilets until I die.” Danny doesn’t know that he’s just struck the exact right cord with Don. He relents and pulls over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. He stops Danny on his way out of the car. “I’m older than you, and I’m telling you it seems bad now but you can make it better.” “Pull myself up by the bootstraps?” Danny grins, like he’s heard this one a jillion times before. Danny says it’s different – he can’t do anything Don can do. Sooner or later people realize there’s something wrong with him. “I am afflicted,” he says. “It’s not a question of will. I can’t change that.” And yeah, Don is really pleased with himself for clawing his way up to where he is now, but he forgets that he was also lucky enough to be handsome and charming and smart, and not epileptic, and also to have a decorated officer explode next to him in Korea. Don gives him some money and mutters to himself: “I swore to myself I’d try to do this right once.” He hands Danny his card. “I want you to call me,” he says, looking him in the eye, “if you ever need to.” Don! Seriously! It’s nice that you want to make some effort to offset the terrible terrible karma you’re carrying around for your little brother’s death, which is squarely, exactly, literally your fault, but maybe handing your business card over to a kid who only knows you as his sister’s fuck buddy might bite you in the ass at some point? “I want you to remember,” Don says like he knows what he’s talking about, “that if anything happens to you, your sister will never forgive herself.” “And she’s not a borderline sociopath like I am, so that would probably affect her life in a much more noticeable way,” he fails to add.

Betty waits. And waits. She’s sitting quietly in the dark at the kitchen table with Pandora’s Shoebox in front of her. She’s forcing herself to stay awake. And another doorknob fakeout to Miss Farrell’s, where Don makes me want to puke, because she says she doesn’t want to do the deed and he says that’s okay, and he hugs her and lets her cry a little, and for some reason that’s worse. By the time 2:15 rolls around, Betty has given up on him. She locks the box back up in the drawer, drops the keys back into his robe pocket, then crawls into bed, drunkenly knocking the laundry basket that started all the trouble onto the floor. It’s incredibly sad. I know there are Betty haters, but damn, how sad is that, when you have to give up on confronting your husband of ten years about his entire life being a lie, because he’s too busy comforting his brand new girlfriend down the road? Damn sad, that’s how sad.

The next day Don’s ready to hear the Western Union copy, but first he calls Betty. Their interaction throughout the rest of the episode is completely fascinating, because here’s a guy whose job it is to know what people are thinking, and he seems to have no idea that his wife is beyond angry. She’s passed up furious and heartbroken and moved on to scheming and vengeful. She’s sort of icy but she’s going along with his “I told you, I was with Hilton” excuse for not coming home last night. “I must have forgotten,” she says, all passive aggressive. Nice. He asks about his tuxedo, which of course she’s already gotten from the cleaners, but she says she doesn’t feel like going to the party tonight. “What’s wrong?” he asks, in a way that suggests he doesn’t especially care. “What’s WRONG?” she repeats, ready to yell, but changes her mind. Might as well keep this little gem of knowledge to herself for awhile and play that card when he least expects it. I like that approach better! But everyone at the party expects to see “the glamorous, elegant, stunning Betty Draper. I want to show you off, Bets,” he says affectionately. Aww, that’s sweet. Except, you know. Not. “Okay,” she says flatly, and hangs up without another word.

Paul Kinsey, meet Peggy Olson. You’ve worked together for 3 years. She’s very talented.

Peggy pokes her head in to Paul’s office and says Don’s waiting for their Western Union copy, but he just sits staring out the window. “I’ve got nothing,” he says. “What a relief,” she replies amiably, “mine’s garbage too.” He’s like, no, you don’t get it, I have NOTHING. I had something awesome and I didn’t write it down and I suck and he’s going to kill me. Peggy is genuinely sympathetic. “I did everything,” he says, I talked to Achilles, I retraced my steps…” “I’m so sorry,” Peggy says, and means it. Then, after a beat, “How do you talk to Achilles?” Heh. Paul pouts in self pity and quotes a Chinese proverb: “The faintest ink is better than the best memory.”

Paul follows Peggy into Don’s office with his best Sad Charlie Brown Walk. She starts with some of her ideas, to which Don responds with a resounding “Meh.” He moves on to Paul. Paul hems and haws (and Peggy sticks up for him, telling Don not to yell at him! Awesome!) and finally Peggy says “Tell him what happened.” Paul sheepishly, guiltily admits that he had a great idea but he didn’t write it down “The dog ate my homework,” he summarizes. Don pauses, sighs, rolls his eyes and says, much to everyone’s surprise, “I hate when that happens,” Ha. Peggy is still thinking about Paul’s Chinese proverb – when you make a phone call, that’s it, it disappears. But a telegram is permanent. Something like “A Telegram Is Forever.” Oh, if only they’d stolen that before the damn diamond people got to it. Don gives her a little smile like he’s remembering why he plucked her out of the typing pool in the first place. “You Can’t Frame a Phone Call,” he muses, and says that’s the way to go. Throughout this whole exchange, Paul is staring at Peggy like he’s never seen her before. “My God!” he says hilariously, with jealousy and admiration. “See?” Don tells a frankly shell-shocked Paul as he leaves. “It all works out.”

Betty is hidden in the bathroom pretending to get ready for the party, but really just sitting dejectedly on the side of the bathtub looking incredibly sad and breathtakingly beautiful. Eventually Don yells for her and she has to come out of hiding. “Look how pretty Mommy is,” Don says to the kids, with what I think is real, genuine awe and affection. Betty smiles, but everything he says now means something different.

The Glamorous, Elegant, Stunning Betty Draper.

Ha! My favorite scene of the whole episode might be Roger, Jane and Roger’s mom riding in the back of the limo on the way to the party. The elder Mrs. Sterling says they passed the Waldorf-Astoria, it’s on 5th Avenue! Roger explains that they moved it, remember? “Enjoy the world as it is, Margaret, they’ll change it and not tell you why!” she tells Jane. HA! Margaret of course being Roger’s daughter. “Mommy, she’s not Margaret, she’s Jane. She’s my wife.” “Oh,” Mommy says. “Does Mona know?” Double Ha! The Widow Sterling wins the episode.

In another limo, Mr. and Mrs. Price are stuck in traffic. She tells him to stop fidgeting; they’ll get there when they get there. “They’re selling the company,” he says suddenly for no reason. He really does seem pretty upset about it. “What happens to the Americans?” she wonders, and he says they’ll go to the highest bidder. She of course is ecstatic and doesn’t bother hiding it, because they get to go back to England. Pryce doesn’t find that especially comforting.

So they’re at this big fancy party, and Roger gives a speech introducing Don, which is just so heavily laden with irony it can barely support itself. First there’s the fact that Roger can’t stand Don and doesn’t really believe any of the stuff he’s saying anyway. But everything he says is pretty much an actual lie. Decorated Korean vet! Bullshit. Loyal? Kind of. Partner? Not to Roger. Father? Sometimes. Husband? Technically. Friend? Not even close. Don Draper, ladies and gentlemen! He kisses a frosty, vacant Betty on the cheek before standing up to riotous applause. Don Draper looks an awful lot like Jon Hamm up there, grinning widely and waiting for the applause to die down. Betty stares blankly at him like she’s never seen him before. And that’s it.

Don, being an expert in nonverbal human communication, knows that “every single muscle in my entire upper body is clenched and I haven’t made eye contact with you all night” means “I love you.”

So okay. The previews for next week showed Betty in a coat packing a suitcase, and the little blurb on my channel guide says “Betty takes the kids on a trip.” So how awesome would it be if she’s heading to Palm Beach to take a look at this Anna Draper for herself? There was also a gratuitous mention of Grampa Gene’s house at the beginning of the episode, so she might just be running away from Don for awhile. But damn, that would be awesome, toting the kids around and knocking on the door with that deed and divorce papers, all “Hello, I’m Mrs. Don Draper, who the hell are you?” When you think about it it makes sense – there’s a better chance she’ll get the truth from a total stranger than from Don, who obviously prefers truthiness. Either way, I like that her initial fury sort of petered out into a kind of simmering resentment. That’s way more interesting, and it should make for a pretty cool theme for these last three (THREE!) episodes.