“Hey, Blaire!”

A voice made the woman turn around, smiling quite falsely, but convincingly nonetheless.

“Hi, Diane.” Blaire’s amber eyes seemed to glow out of the gloom that attributed to the dimmed lights – purposely dimmed – on the deck.

“Boy, you look like a model!” Diane squealed, holding one of the Blaire’s gloved hands.

“So the outfit is to your liking, huh? This entire get up could feed an African family for more than a month,” Blaire said to her old acquaintance, a hint of friendly venom concealed in her voice.

“Blaire, I brought you here so you could have fun. Not whine about some half starved midgets in a third world country,” Diane sniffed.

Blaire felt anger flash in her, and apparently, Diane caught onto it too.

“I – I didn’t mean it like that -“

“So, that’s what you think about people genuinely suffering, is it?” Blaire growled, clenching her fist. “You conceited clout!”

Diane gasped, this time her shock sincere.

“What’s going on here, ladies?”