DIDI WAS RIGHT NOT TO TELL BURNS ABOUT THE INTRICACIES OF AUBERGINE. He's barely going to pay attention to what kind of dress she's got on. Such things don't appeal to him. She'll just be another striking brunette at a bar full of conventionally attractive rich people. So what?
Now comes Hanna Robinson, Broadway stage manager extraordinaire—beautiful, stupid, occasionally stern young woman, who's just been stood up by her date (which reminds her why her little circle of enthusiastically intimate friends is so ideal) at the fanciest hotel she's entered. Hanna won't let this bruise her ego, though. She looks beautiful in a little black dress and stiletto heels, natural hair framing her face like an ethereal glow, like a fucking halo.
It was some Wall Street type who was supposed to meet Hanna thirty minutes ago; she takes absence as a sign that men are not to be trusted or trifled with, a sentiment that usually gets her farther than it would to think otherwise. (Thinking otherwise gets her heart broken by—well—I just won't get into all that. You'll have to take my word for it.)
So she leaves her chair to use the bathroom. When she returns, she sits next to the newcomer at the bar who'd previously caught her eye, one Didi Despereaux. And Hanna doesn't want to assume much, but she is (as always) horny, and that off-the-shoulder element—well—doesn't it just get you all hot and bothered?
The night progresses. The thing about the way Didi's laughing at all of Hanna's little jokes and insights? Hanna, for all her experience with actors, doesn't notice that Didi is playing a role. She just can't believe she's hooked the most beautiful, seemingly wealthiest woman here tonight.)
Burns Harris automatically doesn't like what he's seeing.
With a radiant smile upon her face, Hanna holds out her hand for Burns to shake. Now Didi's grabbing at him and Hanna's got her arm outstretched—an ideal situation for most people to be in, but merely an annoying one for Burns.
"Hi! I'm Hanna. You're friends with Didi? You must be so lucky."
She turns to Didi as she says this.
Burns turns to Didi, too, like, Well? Am I lucky? Am I?
(And, yes, Burns is wearing the fucking navy suit.)
