"LOOK at them — will you just LOOK at them!" Talking about her assets with innuendo. A bright, breathless cry bursts before she's even properly arrived. Mrs. Selma Quickly sweeps forward in a rush of satin and ribbons, skirts flaring, bonnet bobbing, golden curls bouncing with each step. She drops into a dramatic curtsey that is somehow both clumsy and grand, showing too much cleavage as her tightly laced bodice thrusts forward when she rises. "Ahhh, forgive me, I simply cannot enter a room quietly — it isn't in my nature!" She laughs, high and sharp, clearly delighted with herself. She gives an unconscious little shake of the shoulders that sets her gown shifting. "And who, pray tell, are you, that I might dazzle you properly?"