Harry, Sal, and Ken sit in the empty break room, smoking.
SAL: I bet it was a woman.
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…
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.
Harry and Sal walk down the street.
SAL: I just don’t understand what’s so important that I had to cancel my-
HARRY: You’ll know very shortly.
Harry wrangles Sal through the doors of a diner.
SAL: Okay, Agatha Christie, enough with the-
Paul, in full Krishna garb, steps off his stool and smiles at Sal.
PAUL: Hare Krishna, Salvatore.
Sal’s eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. He takes a moment to breathe.
SAL: Please, God, tell me it’s chemotherapy.
Alas, Poor Ida
Harry lights Sal’s cigarette.
SAL: She died?
HARRY: With Fillmore Auto Parts in the conference room.
SAL: So while Ken’s in there killing a strategy, God’s out here killing a secretary.