They certainly made them different on the other side of the ocean. Don stroked the handle of his mug up and down, studying Lily not entirely chastely. She was young - too young, for him - but had a certain air that Don couldn't put his finger on. That mysterious quality of confidence that so few women truly seemed to possess. Joan was one of them, and here was another (were they always redheads?)
"Don Draper," he replied, shaking her hand gently.
Those eyes.
"So what brings you across the pond?" Don asked casually, drawing a cigarette to his lips and offering one to Lily.