"I'll come with you," Ned says without hesitation, getting to his feet too and picking up the discarded box of pie. As he, too, is blinking against the bright light of the hall, he suggests, "Maybe I can leave this as a peace offering for your coworkers..."
One of whom, Ned spots, is at hand. If he didn't know better he'd call it, well, lurking. He didn't have his ear pressed to the door or anything, but it's clear he's been lingering, checking in, probably drawing his own conclusions. Ned's not sure why, but he finds that warm smile a little too warm. Maybe he's just being paranoid, feeling overprotective after the very intimate conversation he'd just had with Ginsberg, but he feels a strange twinge of dislike towards the man.
If he's just being paranoid, Ginsberg is, too, because although he doesn't say anything to Bob, he gives him a sort of look, one that couldn't accurately be described as distrust, exactly, but one that doesn't scream great levels of friendship, either. And perhaps it's significant, too, that he doesn't say anything to Bob as he heads back towards the offices -- apparently, the guy doesn't warrant any comment about where the two of them are going.
Opening the door to the large yet cluttered room he and the rest of the creative team work in, he gestures around, like he's giving Ned the official tour. "This is where I work," he says, easily slipping back into what sounds like a cheerful tone now that there are other people around. "Stan's usually here, and I'd introduce you, but he's not here today. Sick, or so he says."
There're papers scattered all across the table in the center of the room, and the walls are all covered in scraps of paper; drawings, scribblings, fully formed advertisements, single word notes that must mean something to someone but are probably incomprehensible to Ned. "Peggy?" he calls out, and several seconds later, she's peeking her head around her office door. "I'm going home," he says, not asking for permission, not explaining himself, "But I'll be back tomorrow. Of course. For the meeting. Wouldn't miss it. It'll be great."
Peggy stares at him for a moment, then shifts her gaze to Ned, offering him a smile -- a genuine one, and not at all the too warm smile that Bob had given them. "Okay," she says, "Get some rest. It was nice to meet you, Ned."
Ginsberg grabs an overflowing file from the stack of them on the table, and hurries out of the office towards the elevators as fast as he can without looking like he's running away. In truth, he kind of is running away, and he's glad none of the executives had been there to apprehend him. Bob gives him a strange sense of unease, but he's got no power, and Peggy might get frustrated, but at least she cares a little and isn't likely to gossip too badly. He presses the button for the elevator three times, urging it to come more quickly.
Ned stares around at the workspace with open curiosity. It looks pretty much how he'd expected it to: a brilliant collage of scraps and ideas, all jumbled and dauntingly, well, creative. He's glad that Peggy doesn't object, to see the relief that's on her face. Perhaps, he thinks, he'd been a bit too harsh in his opinions of Ginsberg's coworkers. Well, some of them.
"Nice to meet you, too," he says, with real feeling behind it, rather than just as a formality. What he really means is thank you for calling me. "Here, you guys-" he puts down the pie in the center of the table, as Ginsberg is gathering his things. There's still a kind of frantic urgency to his movements that worries Ned, but at least they're getting out of there. "-help yourselves."
That offering given, he follows Ginsberg as he rushes out. He'd give anything to be able to set his hand on the small of Ginsberg's back as they wait for the elevator, but he doesn't dare. So he murmurs, low enough that no one else will overhear, "You know, I just thought of another thing that helps when I'm feeling stressed? Digby." Ginsberg might not share Ned's love of dogs, but he hasn't seemed to mind Digby's company, in the time they've known one another, and he is very calming company. Ned's seen that with dozens of people. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you-"
With that, the elevator has arrived, and Ned follows Ginsberg on, more than prepared to dedicate the rest of his day to making him feel better, feel - if not happy, at least normal for a little while.
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One of whom, Ned spots, is at hand. If he didn't know better he'd call it, well, lurking. He didn't have his ear pressed to the door or anything, but it's clear he's been lingering, checking in, probably drawing his own conclusions. Ned's not sure why, but he finds that warm smile a little too warm. Maybe he's just being paranoid, feeling overprotective after the very intimate conversation he'd just had with Ginsberg, but he feels a strange twinge of dislike towards the man.
no subject
Opening the door to the large yet cluttered room he and the rest of the creative team work in, he gestures around, like he's giving Ned the official tour. "This is where I work," he says, easily slipping back into what sounds like a cheerful tone now that there are other people around. "Stan's usually here, and I'd introduce you, but he's not here today. Sick, or so he says."
There're papers scattered all across the table in the center of the room, and the walls are all covered in scraps of paper; drawings, scribblings, fully formed advertisements, single word notes that must mean something to someone but are probably incomprehensible to Ned. "Peggy?" he calls out, and several seconds later, she's peeking her head around her office door. "I'm going home," he says, not asking for permission, not explaining himself, "But I'll be back tomorrow. Of course. For the meeting. Wouldn't miss it. It'll be great."
Peggy stares at him for a moment, then shifts her gaze to Ned, offering him a smile -- a genuine one, and not at all the too warm smile that Bob had given them. "Okay," she says, "Get some rest. It was nice to meet you, Ned."
Ginsberg grabs an overflowing file from the stack of them on the table, and hurries out of the office towards the elevators as fast as he can without looking like he's running away. In truth, he kind of is running away, and he's glad none of the executives had been there to apprehend him. Bob gives him a strange sense of unease, but he's got no power, and Peggy might get frustrated, but at least she cares a little and isn't likely to gossip too badly. He presses the button for the elevator three times, urging it to come more quickly.
no subject
"Nice to meet you, too," he says, with real feeling behind it, rather than just as a formality. What he really means is thank you for calling me. "Here, you guys-" he puts down the pie in the center of the table, as Ginsberg is gathering his things. There's still a kind of frantic urgency to his movements that worries Ned, but at least they're getting out of there. "-help yourselves."
That offering given, he follows Ginsberg as he rushes out. He'd give anything to be able to set his hand on the small of Ginsberg's back as they wait for the elevator, but he doesn't dare. So he murmurs, low enough that no one else will overhear, "You know, I just thought of another thing that helps when I'm feeling stressed? Digby." Ginsberg might not share Ned's love of dogs, but he hasn't seemed to mind Digby's company, in the time they've known one another, and he is very calming company. Ned's seen that with dozens of people. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you-"
With that, the elevator has arrived, and Ned follows Ginsberg on, more than prepared to dedicate the rest of his day to making him feel better, feel - if not happy, at least normal for a little while.