Act I. (Hostess table in a dimly lit entryway) Deirdre: “Daaaaahling!” Phoebe: “Gooooooorgeous!” (kiss, kiss) D: “I absolutely love your black pencil skirt, the way it compliments your black turtleneck and black Paolos.” P: “But my gray scarf—is it too colorful?” D: “Perhaps, but it’s, um, daring.” Act II. (The bar; in a white booth surrounded by white padded walls with knee-high white ottoman cubes and knee-high black table cubes) Waitress: “Welcome to the unveiling—ha, ha, get it?—of Veil’s happy hour. 5 to 7 p.m. weekdays.” D: “How delightfully plebeian!” P: “What’re the deals?” W: “Our signature champagne cocktails are all $6 instead of $8. Draft beers are $3, wells are $4. And [points at menu items] the mini lamb burgers, goat-cheese salad, Salumi meats, and, let’s see, the baby beets are all $7.” Act III. (On the table: a white rectangular plate with three bitty burgers dabbed with Moroccan sauce; a large white bowl with a pile of lettuce, dried grapes, filberts, and whipped goat-cheese dressing; and two champagne flutes) P: “Funny, Dahling, my Pear Seduction doesn’t taste much different from your Rosemary’s Bellini.” D: “Who cares, they’re so sparkly. Whoops, the sprig of rosemary just went up my nose.” (laughter) P: “You take the last burger. I couldn’t possibly. Strict orders from my fitness guy: I can’t have anything larger than a golf ball during any one meal.” D: “Is that the new Jennifer Aniston diet?” P: “Olsen twins, actually.” D: “Can’t be, Gorgeous, they don’t eat anything at all.” The end. 555 Aloha St., 206-216-0612, www.veilrestaurant.com. LOWER QUEEN ANNE