After he locates the office the tablet sits untouched in his desk drawer. He smokes all afternoon then through the night and into morning, walking from room to room, unable to tell if the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach is his or the remnant of a ten-year-old kid.
Finally, once he's done with Walter, he checks the tablet. He could ignore the message but knowing Mattie she'd only track him down, pound at the door until he opened up. Whatever this is he almost certainly doesn't want to do it face to face. He pours himself a drink, lets it rest in his hand as though reacquainting himself with the feel of the glass. He takes a sip and picks up the tablet.
“Miss Ross, this is Don Draper,” he says, crisp, businesslike. “What can I do for you?”
"You may stop assuming that I have nothing better to do than wait patiently for you to return my message, for one." If the child Mattie demonstrated little patience with the inactivity of others, her adult self has absolutely none at all. It isn't as though she's expecting this conversation to pleasant either, and that's certainly contributing to her brusqueness.
"We ought to speak. You cannot sweep under the carpet the fact that you were a child under my care for some time, just as I cannot ignore that I was once in a similar situation. We left things unresolved between us when I was here last, and I would like to remedy that before I leave again."
Don lowers his tablet to the desk. Rests his head against the heel of his hand. He stares at the liquid in his glass until his vision starts to blur, then raises the drink to his lips for a gulp. The sound turns his stomach.
“We are speaking,” he says tiredly, fear taut beneath the words like the muscles of an animal tensed to flee.
“I'm not-is that what you think this is? I have work. I have an agency to get up and running and I wasn't counting on spending three weeks in short pants.”
"That is exactly what I think this is, Mr. Draper. You barely said a word before bolting from my home, and have said nothing since. And I judge from your reply now that it is not because you do not remember."
Mattie's voice is stern and calm like usual, but underneath there's something more, a hint of worry and hurt. Maybe a little regret.
"I see." There is a significant difference there, and with the dreamlike quality of so much of her own memory regarding Taxon, Mattie understands that difference. "Then I am sorry, Mr. Draper, for my assumptions."
She pauses for a few moments, considering her words carefully. This isn't quite the unrestrained and brash girl Don is familiar with, although she still certainly has retained her sharp tongue. "You were a very well-mannered young man. It was a pleasure having you in my home."
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Finally, once he's done with Walter, he checks the tablet. He could ignore the message but knowing Mattie she'd only track him down, pound at the door until he opened up. Whatever this is he almost certainly doesn't want to do it face to face. He pours himself a drink, lets it rest in his hand as though reacquainting himself with the feel of the glass. He takes a sip and picks up the tablet.
“Miss Ross, this is Don Draper,” he says, crisp, businesslike. “What can I do for you?”
Reply
"We ought to speak. You cannot sweep under the carpet the fact that you were a child under my care for some time, just as I cannot ignore that I was once in a similar situation. We left things unresolved between us when I was here last, and I would like to remedy that before I leave again."
Reply
“We are speaking,” he says tiredly, fear taut beneath the words like the muscles of an animal tensed to flee.
“I'm not-is that what you think this is? I have work. I have an agency to get up and running and I wasn't counting on spending three weeks in short pants.”
The old threadbare excuses.
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Mattie's voice is stern and calm like usual, but underneath there's something more, a hint of worry and hurt. Maybe a little regret.
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“No,” he says shakily. The word curls in on itself like a child anticipating a blow. Like a sheet of paper set on fire.
“I know what happened. I don't remember.” The sentence lurches to a stop.
Reply
She pauses for a few moments, considering her words carefully. This isn't quite the unrestrained and brash girl Don is familiar with, although she still certainly has retained her sharp tongue. "You were a very well-mannered young man. It was a pleasure having you in my home."
Reply
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