"You told him what?"

Saffron's boss, Ellen Shaw, was not happy.

"I said I didn't see how I could sign off on his proposal," Saffy told her.

"And he did what?"

Saff had the sense that the actual high point of this particular Friday may have occurred when she missed her usual morning train.

"He walked out."

Now Ellen was even less happy.

"Which means his firm's money went with him, then."

Swallowing hard, Saffron worked to stay as calm as possible. Obviously, there was some sort of arrangement proffered to the law firm Draper worked for and nobody had bothered to tell her. But it mattered little, given how furious Ellen seemed with her at that moment.

"Yes," Saff said, not really knowing what else she could or should say. This was completely no-win for her. All there was for it was to try rectifying things.

"What do you propose we do now, Saffron?" Ellen asked pointedly.

She genuinely liked Saff and knew she hadn't meant any harm in turning down Draper's project. But one thing Saffron had yet to learn was the art of compromise and, polite as she was, her sense of tact needed definite polishing. When unsolicited funds were offered by a reputable private institution for a good cause, Social Outreach couldn't afford to just turn them away based on high-minded ideals. Nobody had to like this fact, but it was the harsh reality.

"I made the error," Saffy said, "so I'll reach out to Mister Draper and … and make things right."

Ellen knew she would. And she knew Saffron was, at that moment, mortified at being taken to task. Still, her best employee needed this hard lesson in order to grow and, difficult as it was for Ellen, she had to see it through with a false front of stern disapproval at least until the matter was somewhat sorted.

"You have the rest of the day to make that happen," Ellen told Saffron. "I've always found that an invite for elevenses tends to spark a man's willingness to make peace."

And with a conciliatory smile meant to put Saff's mind a bit more at ease, Ellen laughed, adding, "They really do have some odd portal straight from their hearts to their stomachs."

By the time she made her way to the offices of Renton, Smithers & Gladstone, Saffron already had a mild headache. The thought of dealing with Draper again made it worse, but it had to be done.

A stunningly lovely young woman greeted Saff when she entered the reception area. After requesting to see Mister Draper, Saffron took a seat in one of the posh leather chairs. The room was classically Old English in style and general atmosphere; her mother would have a field day turning such a place into one of her usual interior design freakshows.

That mental image brought a smirk to Saff's face and she lost herself, somewhat, imagining Bubble working that reception desk in some bizarrely-themed outfit while Mum shouted orders and, in her usual way, generated the kind of chaos usually reserved for the universe itself.

She was snickering about this scenario when she noticed Draper standing before her. Quickly looking up, she found herself gaping awkwardly at him. He was grinning down at her, a thin-lipped smile on his face.

"Miss Monsoon," he said brightly. "We meet again."

"Um… Yes," Saffron answered, a bit embarrassed at having been caught off guard. She forced herself to offer him a friendly smile in return. "May we speak privately?"

Draper flashed her a smile falling somewhere, to her thinking, squarely between devious and utterly charming. Motioning towards his office, he politely followed her as she made her way the short distance down a hallway to the only room with an open door. Draper ushered her in.

"Please have a seat, Miss Monsoon," he said. Then he practically flopped down in his own chair behind a massive antique mahogany desk of the sort her father would start pricing in the five-digit range.

Seeing a lawyer for one of the stuffiest London firms bounce into a chair like a schoolboy was odd. Seeing him loosen his tie and roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt was something else entirely. Placing his hands behind his head with a contented sigh, Draper stretched out his legs and let his dark brown eyes settle on Saffron. He seemed to be enjoying some kind of wholly personal joke, she thought, and she knew that whatever the joke it was surely on her.

"Mister Draper," she began.

"Tony," he broke in, that little smirk of his already starting to nettle her.

"Mister Draper," she continued, unabated, "I was a bit … hasty earlier when I said I couldn't sign off on your proposal."

"You said you didn't think it was something you could sign off on," Draper corrected.

This, too, grated on Saffron's nerves. She hated lawyers who did this kind of thing; she guessed there was some special upper level law school class specifically for it: Nitpicking 300, maybe.

"Well," she said briskly, "nevertheless, I realize now that I was in error and I'd like to give your proposal my full attention."

"Which proposal is that, Miss Monsoon?" Draper asked, knitting his thick, black eyebrows together as if he were hearing about it for the first time.

Saffron looked at him as if he were mad.

"The one you came to see me about this morning."

Draper flashed her a brilliant grin.

"Oh, that!" he scoffed, sounding as if the whole thing was basically a toss-off and suddenly not so important. "I thought you were giving my other proposal your full attention."

"What other proposal?" Saffron asked, completely confused.

Maybe he was mad.

"The one I'm making about us taking elevenses right now."

He raised an eyebrow at her. The blatant cheekiness of it shocked Saffy.

"Well, I…"

She remembered Ellen's suggestion, which was less of a suggestion than a subtle order.

"Yes, let's do that," Saff heard herself say. It was as if the words were coming from someone else somewhere far away. She again forced a smile.

"Brilliant!" Draper exclaimed, clearly thrilled. "And Miss Monsoon?"

"Yes, Mister Draper?"

If nothing else, she was determined to keep things as formal as possible between them while she groveled.

"Tony."

"Tony," she said, gritting her teeth, her tone dripping with sarcasm as the last shred of formality went out the window.

"You are giving it your full attention, aren't you?"