"Why did you call me by my first name this morning?" Saffron asked, fixing Tony with a quizzical stare as she sipped her tea.

Tony, who was a dedicated coffee drinker despite his upbringing, shot her that semi-leering grin of his she was starting to truly detest.

"It's your name, 'ey? Seems right I should call you by it."

Saff noticed that Tony's voice didn't sound the same as when they were in his office. He'd slipped quite comfortably into a Cockney-sounding brogue. Like the few other things she'd come to learn about him in the hour or so they'd been acquainted, this change in voice was definitely odd.

"Your voice," she began, a bit cautiously, "sounds… different."

She took another sip of tea, studying his face. He wasn't the worst-looking man she'd ever seen. That five o'clock shadow of his, right around his mouth — something deep down inside her wanted to reach out and touch it. As soon as the urge came, it went.

Smirking, Tony raised his eyebrows, closed his eyes and snorted out a little laugh.

"East End's where I'm from," he said, the accent getting stronger. "Have to talk proper when I'm in me office."

"And you talk this way when you're not at work," Saff said. It wasn't a question, but a statement based on observation.

"Sometimes," Tony told her. "If I feel like a person won't be makin' fun of me for it. Gets old havin' to be someone you're not."

Propping her chin on her palm, Saffy again fixed her hazel eyes on him.

"You're not a lawyer?" she said snarkily. "Your clothes, shoes, haircut, office door and — oh yes, your degree — say otherwise."

Tony glowered at her, but only slightly. She had him there.

"Does your job make you who you are?" he asked plaintively. Saffron could tell he was serious and expected a serious answer from her.

"No," she replied, "but I don't have to put on airs to be accepted by my colleagues."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She knew it was a petty, snide remark.

Tony took a sip of his coffee. He wouldn't look up at Saffron.

"Tony, I'm sorry," she said, really meaning it. "That was uncalled for. I apologize."

He took another long sip before answering.

"Don't be sorry," he replied brightly, his eyes smiling at her again. "It's only the truth, y'know!"

Saffy felt terrible. She knew he was faking cheerfulness to assuage her. Now she wondered how often he had to do this sort of thing at work. It couldn't be easy and it had to feel awful, she guessed.

"Can we start over, here?" she asked Tony rather soberly. "So far, I've rejected your proposal, wasted your time and now I've gone and shot off my mouth. At this rate, I'll have you leaping off the Tower Bridge by day's end."

Tony burst out into ebullient laughter, his shoulders shaking as he threw his head back to howl at what he found a fine joke.

Saffron was pleased that his mood had shifted back to what seemed normal for him. But she didn't see that she'd said anything all that hilarious.

"Leaping off Tower Bridge by day's end!" he repeated, wheezing with laughter. "'At's a good 'un, it is! Cheeky!"

"Yes," Saffy said, eyeballing Tony warily. "Cheeky."

He was absolutely odd, she thought to herself as she finished her tea. And yet, it didn't seem like such a bad thing at that.

She wanted to steer the conversation back to the details of the cleanup project, but before she could launch into her thoughts on the most efficient means of hauling away refuse, Tony was back on the subject of her name.

"Saffron…" he said, smiling that silly grin of his as his eyes took in the details of her face. "Bit of a different name there, 'ey? Not one you'll prob'ly 'ear just random on the street."

"So far," Saffy said, pouring herself just a smidge more tea, "I'm the only Saffron I've met. Aside from some expensive containers in the spice aisle at Sainsbury's."

This also set Tony to laughing.

Definitely, he IS mad, Saffron told herself. Casting a quizzical look at him, she made a mental note to read up on the stages of madness. Certainly, Tony was exhibiting at least one of them, whatever they were.

He seemed to know what she was thinking because he then fixed her with a devilish grin and said "Whatever it 'tis you're thinkin' about me, Miss Monsoon? You more 'n' likely got me pegged right."

Now Saffron couldn't keep from snickering into her teacup. Oddball or not, Tony had a good sense of humor. That was something she rarely found in her colleagues, she had to admit.

"Are we okay, then, with the project?" Saff asked, letting a small grin play at the corner of her mouth. "We're all sorted out?"

Tony leaned back in his chair, drinking in the joy of just being in her company.

He found her totally delightful. And he wanted to know Saffron Monsoon much, much better.

Folding his arms over his chest, he said, "I reckon we are. See you next Saturday morning to get started? 'Bout eight on the dot?"

"Absolutely," Saffron told him, and then, allowing herself to get a bit cheeky with him, added "Don't be late, Mister Draper."