It didn't escape Diana's attention that the other woman's story was overflowing with questions. But what struck her more was the way she was handling the whole situation. Diana knew it was unfair to compare her to Arty but...that take-charge attitude--coupled with the accent--wasn't doing much to discourage her.

Ultimately, it was good, she supposed. They probably needed someone like Arty around, if they were going to deal with this...whatever it was.

Diana offered her a wane smile. "I'm Diana," she said, offering her hand. She noticed, with a little scowl, that her nail polish had come off. She'd painted her nails her signature purple only a few days ago.

Gone with her ring, she supposed.

She turned her hand this way and that, the line between her eyes deepening.