...and in a nice segue, Joan enters Duck's office with a case of Tanqueray, an apparent gift from Powell, although his name isn't on the card. Duck gives Joan a bottle of the stuff as a finder's fee (nice touch), and she happily takes off, leaving him to read the note again.
Sal, Harry, Ken, and Peggy and her new sassy bob (it's kind of Jackie, going back to that theme) are watching TV coverage of the riots in Mississippi when Pete enters with greetings for all. After Pete offers a typically mealy-mouthed assessment of the crisis as "strange," Peggy asks how California was. He produces a bag of oranges as he says that it was spectacular on the business front, but he's not sure he'd want to live there. As someone who only learned to drive in his thirties, I can tell you that that might change your perspective on the whole thing. No one seems to wonder where Don is, even when Pete asks if he's checked in, and after Pete notices Peggy's new hair, Ken winds up the scene: "Kurt's a homo." Pete and his confused expression are now officially up to speed.
Duck pops a breath mint, presumably to cover the fact that that bottle he gave Joan is no longer the only one missing...
...and then he's in with Roger and Bertram, rattling off a number of major international accounts and telling them they could all be part of SC. Bertram asks how, and Duck spins the truth, saying that "Putnam, Powell, and Lowe" want to open a New York office to deal with their American clients, and "they love the idea of just sticking their key in the door at Sterling Cooper." Roger cuttingly asks if this is "as solid as American Airlines," but Duck's courage is being fueled by the best gin money can buy, and he responds in kind, saying that maybe they're happy with being a third-tier player. Roger looks chastened, and says they can think about it, but Duck ups the ante, saying he needs to know they're open to the idea, because if so, he'll give Powell five business days to come up with a price for controlling interest. Bertram is loving Duck's change in demeanor, but declines his oh-by-the-way alternative of them giving him a price to take to them. "Let them open the kimono." I hope he's not being literal, because in an episode that's sexually confusing enough as it is, Bertram-as-Jame-Gumb is really beyond the pale. Duck, attempting to sell out his employers with absolutely no assurances, looks like he's shitting his pants underneath his bravado, which is one of the many less-desirable effects of alcohol with which he'll soon be reacquainted.