Trudy's hastily laying out some dip and vegetables as Pete yells about his pajamas before entering the room, and those of you who didn't get enough of him shirtless last time are in for a treat. Hey, I'm sensitive to minorities. Pete is pulling a robe on as he whispers that he skipped work because he had an interview over at Ogilvy, and he has to look sick. Trudy replies, "You do," and she's so nice that it's hard to credit her with any double meaning but since it's the season finale I'm going to anyway. The doorbell rings, and after Pete messes up his hair a little, Trudy opens up, and Pete hilariously seems a little overwhelmed at the reality of having both Don and Roger in his home. After Trudy leaves the men, they sit, and when Pete asks if everything's okay, Roger tells him the news. Don adds that Pete's not being fired, so he sardonically asks in response, "Am I getting a few more adjectives added to my title?" Nice, but I'm sure they'll both think of a couple choice ones if you keep up that attitude. Pete goes on that they shouldn't bother talking about it, as he has other plans, causing Trudy's suddenly artificially high voice to ring out, "Peter, may I speak to you for a moment?" Hee. Pete winces at the challenge to his authority, but Don wisely doesn't call attention to it, instead telling him they're starting a new agency, and they want him. Pete at least asks how it is that they're being allowed to leave (you'd think that would be the first question on everyone's mind upon hearing the news), but Roger declines to explain, instead telling him to keep it to himself, but he's taking American Tobacco. He goes on that they'll need another seven to ten million in billings "for cash flow, or something." I don't know if Roger believes in God, but he certainly doesn't believe that He is in the details. Roger asks what Pete has in his "saddlebag," but Pete denies knowledge of any such thing, and in the other room, Trudy is rolling her eyes and thinking this would be more convincing if he hadn't already crowed about his other plans. That woman is a saint, I'm telling you. Don tries a conciliatory tack, saying he doesn't blame Pete for wanting to leave after the way he was treated, which prompts Pete to speculate that Ken turned them down. Roger tells him they haven't talked to Ken "yet," and goes on that they do want his accounts, but also his talents. Pete sarcastically wonders what those might be, and when Roger offers that he'll do "what it takes," Pete says he wants to hear an answer from Don. Don takes a moment to consider, but sincerely answers that Pete saw this day coming -- in fact, he's been ahead of them on a lot of things -- "aeronautics, teenagers, the Negro market," and they need him to keep them looking forward. "I do, anyway." And so the seasonal theme pays off, although I never expected it would do so in quite such a satisfying way. Pete nods and says he wants to be a partner and have his name in the lobby, but Don deflects this discussion by telling him there's not going to be a lobby. Heh. Pete, however, grabs his files from a nearby spot in the room and reads off what's in his nonexistent saddlebag -- North American Aviation, Secor Laxatives, Gillette, Bronzo, maybe Pampers -- which totals almost eight million in billings already. "I don't think you get conditions." Don counters that they'll make him a partner if he can deliver by Sunday, and Pete blanches at the tight timetable, but stands and proffers his hand, and when Don and Roger don't jump up to shake it, he explains, "I'm not really sick." Wouldn't have guessed, with you wearing suit pants and wing tips under the robe. Trudy emerges with a smile on her face to see Don and Roger out, but before they leave, Pete asks what happens if he comes up short. Don gives him a Mona Lisa smile as he says that's not an option, so when they're gone, Pete asks Trudy to call his Secor contact at home to set up a meeting for that night while he gets dressed. "And sound like a secretary." They kiss and then break apart to execute their tasks as the soundtrack punctuates the cloak-and-dagger goings-on with a conspiratorial flourish. And the touch is appreciated but unnecessary, because I couldn't be more hooked were I a large-mouthed bass.