Pete, however, is having none of it, saying he's a partner, dammit, and adding that he knows Pryce never liked him, reminding him that Pryce picked Ken over him, and now he wants Pete to work with him again? "Approval denied." That kind of overly pithy, internet-y talk may be anachronistic, but I don't care: HA!
However, Pryce interrupts Pete's storm-out by grabbing his arm and (faux?-)reluctantly telling him that Roger is a child, and they can't have Pete pulling the Accounts cart all by himself. Pete still looks skeptical, but Pryce tells him that Ken is proven, hungry, and laden with accounts, and asks if that puts him at ease. Pete: "What would put me at ease is you and Madame Defarge not plotting behind my back!" It seems like the only female candidate for Madame Defarge is Joan, especially since she's the one that told Pete to talk to Pryce, but I think the comparison fits Bertram a lot better. Even if you don't agree, I hope you won't begrudge me the mental picture of him knitting pernicious things up in his office.
Pete again tries to leave, but Pryce tells him he expects pragmatism from him, saying that the two of them share that. He goes on to invite Pete to lunch with him and Ken on Monday, "and on a personal note, I'd like to add that I am quite fond of you. It pains me to hear you say otherwise." Pete looks like he's honestly flummoxed at that one, and given the day he's had I don't blame him for heading home one bit.
In the bar, Roger, Don, and Joan are whooping it up (well, to varying degrees) when that "Major General" happens by with some girl on his arm, and after some inconsequential drunken happenings, Don sees Faye and grabs her away from the guy to whom she's talking, which she doesn't particularly appreciate, as she was apparently working the guy for his business, and I guess it makes sense that she'd be here if she knew that the Clio attendees would be stopping by. She happily speculates that they're going to put Don's picture on a dartboard at Grey, and he wonders why they care, as awards don't make the work any better. She smiles: "Award or no award, you're still Don Draper." Okay, but who is he with a 3.5 blood-alcohol content?
Not realizing just how on to his shtick she is, he's like, "Whatever that means," and she tells him he's incredible, which she pretty clearly means not in the sense that he's extraordinary but that he's unbelievable, not all in the good way. I mean, I think she has a real affinity for him, but unlike so many of the women we've seen fall into bed with him, she has a grounded self-respect that would never allow her to go for him when he's like this. Regardless, he tells her she smells good, and, losing patience for his drunken flirting, her smiles fades, but he's oblivious to any barriers, and suggests they get out of there "and really celebrate." Probably because of the affinity to which I alluded, she forces a smile as she opines that he's confusing a lot of things at once at the moment, but she's very happy for him. She straightens his tie in a small gesture of affection before heading out, and I don't know when I got to like her quite this much, but if he treats her disrespectfully I think Don Draper and I may be done. Of course, he could always go on to the next name.