The Devil's Nest [Monday morning and afternoon]

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Joan was vaguely starting to worry. She didn't really start to actually worry until things got severe, because she usually understood what was going on. She hadn't worried when Roger had had his heart attack, because she'd been told right away that he was fine, and that she had to do her job. She'd been concerned, but worrying wasn't on her mind. She hadn't worried when Don had brought in that strange Duck Phillips fellow from England, because of course the men knew what they were doing. That was their business, and she was minding her own.

She was mildly concerned today, though, because after all the fuss she'd been hearing she'd finally put in a call this morning to the switchboard girls at Sterling Cooper, just to check on everyone. Peggy Olson was still missing (Joan was betting on her going somewhere to lose all that frumpy weight), Jennifer had taken Harry back, and no one there even knew who Duck Phillips was.

That was why she was starting to worry. She hadn't known the man long, but she knew what he looked like, that he had children, and that he didn't drink. It was enough to make her sure she hadn't hallucinated the whole thing, somehow.

Work today found her tucked in a corner booth of the club, the house lights on and as welcoming as she could make them, as she went over Eric's accounts with his dry-cleaning on the seat beside her. As tempting as it was to call back and make one of the girls tell her something useful, she had a job here. And maybe she was going crazy, anyway.

[open, whoo!]