Ken hobbles out of the elevator. Sal, headed in that direction, stops in his tracks. 

SAL: Kenny, what the hell happened to you? 

KEN: Chevy hapened. 

SAL: Jesus Christ, you got hit by a car? 

KEN: No, not “a” Chevy. Chevy. 

SAL: What’re you talking about? 

KEN: Remember that one time, you asked me what the biggest hazards of being an Accounts Man were? 

SAL: You said “syphilis.” 

KEN: I didn’t count on this one. 

SAL: No, Dammit, I will not be one of three Art Directors!

DON: Sal, it’s fine. The point is to grow. 

SAL: That’s easy for you to say. You’re not going to get lost in the herd. We’ll come out at the end of this and you’ll still be the only Don Draper. 

DON: I know how you feel. But Ted and I are taking on equal responsibilities. 

SAL: Don’t pretend you aren’t what you are. Even Ted Chaough knows he’s not a threat to you. 

DON: Aren’t you the one who told me you’re glad you had someone to work with at your level? 

SAL: Oh, you mean Dr. Zaius? 

DON: What do you have against Stan? 

SAL: Nothing. Stan’s great. Oftentimes, I even envy him. But, Don…threesomes run the risk of leaving an odd man out. At my age…and the industry the way it is…I’d be it. 

DON: I guarantee that wouldn’t be the case. 

SAL: You can’t do that. You couldn’t do that eight years ago…you couldn’t even do that when you were in charge. Or when Lee Garner Jr. got loaded and gave Harry Crane a ring. 

DON: That isn’t fair. 

SAL: Don’t you dare tell me…about fair. 

Sal sits with a cup of coffee and a paper at a simple yet upscale diner. The only other open seat is next to him. A white man in his late twenties sits down next to him. The attending black waitress pours him a cup of coffee. 

MICK: Thanks, sweetheart. Hey, listen, I wanna offer my condolences. It was a great man your people lost.

She develops a look of consternation, but fights to be friendly. 

WAITRESS: …Thank you. 

She finishes pouring the cup and walks away. 

MICK: Crazy day, huh, pal? 

SAL: I’ll sip to that. 

MICK: He was doin’ a lot o’ god, too. 

SAL: Indeed. 

MICK: I fought in Vietnam. Lotta young men, black, white, red, yellow, all of ‘em layin’ it on the line, puttin’ their country and their families ahead of themselves. 

SAL: You have any friends that didn’t make it? 

MICK: Damn right I did. 

SAL: I’m sorry to hear that. Truly. I’m Sal. 

MICK: Mick. 

A particularly effeminate, well-dressed young man makes his way past the counter. Mick and Sal take notice. Mick chuckles as the man passes. 

MICK: Goddamn Queers. Just about lost my appetite, huh? 

Mick laughs. Sal forces a grin. 

MICK: Gotta hit the can. Be right back. 

Mick stands up and saunters to the bathroom. Sal finishes the last of his coffee, puts a few dollars on the counter, extinguishes his cigarette in Mick’s fresh cup of coffee, and exits the diner. 

Don and Sal sit in Don’s office. 

SAL: Well, don’t everybody shout at once. 

DON: Sorry. Sal, there’s no easy way to say this…

Sal takes a drink and gulps. 

SAL: Don, you’ve fired me before. I think I can handle it again. 

DON: It’s not that. God, no. 

SAL: Then what is it? 

DON: We have an opportunity. A big one. And it will require some cloak and dagger for the time being. Which means minimal staff. 

SAL: And secrecy. You know that won’t be a problem with me. 

Don grins. 

DON: No. Sal, you’re invaluable. You know that. But we’re going with Stan on this one. 

SAL:…Oh. Stan’s good. 

DON: He’s just closer to the account. I wish I could say more. 

SAL: I understand. So, if you don’t mind my asking…why bring it up at all? 

DON: I feel like I owe you that much. 

SAL: You’re burdened with my dark secret…so you wanted to burden me with yours. 

Sal smiles. 

The conference room has just cleared. Everyone, including the men from Jaguar, seem displeased by what has occurred within. Pete storms past Sal. 

PETE: Where’s Draper? 

SAL: Take a breath. 

PETE: Out of my way, Sal. 

SAL: Nerves are raw right now, there’s no need to-

PETE: To what, Sal? No need to get riled up? Over JAGUAR? The biggest account my name has ever been on? Don Draper-

SAL: Don Draper is the only reason any of us are here right now with a desk and a paycheck. You of all people should understand that.

PETE: AND WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? 

SAL: Come on Pete, it isn’t some big secret how many times that man’s axe has been pointed at your neck. But he never brings it down. Do you know why? 

Pete says nothing. 

SAL: Because he’s not afraid of you. 

Pete turns away, and marches to Don’s office. 

Which means tomorrow, you’ll get to find out what Sal is up to! 

Sal adjusts his cuffs and collar while the photographer waits, casting him annoyed glances. Other gathered members of SCDP chuckle. 

Sal: Trust me, aesthetics is my job, I know what I’m doing.

Photographer: (Sarcastically) Right. And all I do is click a button.

Photographer’s Assistant: Aren’t there two Artistic Directors?

Sal: You clearly haven’t met Stanley. I think the firm’s safest best is to show the AD that looks like Dean Martin, not the one that looks like an exile from Doctor Zhivago.

Stan: I heard that.

Sal: Well, I said it loudly.

and so is Sal!

So we’ll be taking a hiatus. In the meantime, send us your thoughts/predictions for Season 6!

Harry, Sal, and Ken sit in the empty break room, smoking. 

SAL: I bet it was a woman. 

HARRY: No.

KEN: You really think…

SAL: Look, the last thing I want to do is tarnish the man’s name…any further than hanging himself already can…

HARRY: But…?

SAL: Men like Don and Roger, and the rest of us, for that matter, can’t behave with our wives a train ride away. Can you imagine if they were in another country half the year?

KEN: And you think, what, Rebecca found out?

SAL: I’m sorry I brought it up. Anyone who gives Pete Campbell a black eye deserves better than our posthumous criticism.