“Sorry, babe,” Stan says, still staring in disbelief. “It's just with this guy being the level-headed ladykiller he is, nobody expected reality to live up to the description.” He looks away as if struck by an important realization, then heads for the door. “Shit, I gotta tell Peggy.”
There's an awkward silence in the room after he leaves.
Michael feels like an idiot, and he resents that. Lee's first impression of his space here hasn't been the best, and he resents that, too. He's still happy about his lunch, though. The thick paper feels good under his fingers. No one's ever gone to such lengths to deliver a meal just for him.
Looking unsure of himself, he wanders behind his desk and leans against its edge, facing his chair. There's enough room for Lee to sit down in front of him if she wants to.