Moira: Well, I hear this year is going to be very different. Twyla apparently sought counsel. Expect thoughtful party favors, themed cocktails, first class catering.
Jocelyn: I thought it was a potluck?
Moira: You, Jocelyn, are the mayor's wife, you are the self-appointed leader of the Jazzigals, and most importantly, Twyla worships you.
Twyla: She does?
Moira: Yes. This party has real momentum now. And with you attached, it's no less than a snowball gathering speed, picking up bodies as it rolls downhill.
Jocelyn: And that's good?
Moira: Very good.