You are in awe of Miss Hensley' s sheer size. She tapers away out of view from your position on the floor, but the scale of her is simply breathtaking. You begin working out how small you've become by using her foot as comparison, before you realise that it might be possible to see up her skirt from your angle...
The attempt is thwarted as she bends at the knees, allowing her mountainous mass to swoop down lower and bringing her face within comprehendable distance. It still dominates the sky above you, but the slight tinge of amusement capering across her leviathanic lips gives you small comfort.
"I've never seen it used before," she breathes, tilting her head this way and that regularly, as if trying to see you from multiple angles.
"I've never seen someone whose legs literally went on for miles," you try quipping, only to realise that she can't hear your tiny voice from way up there. When she notices that you tried to speak however, she brings her humungous hand down alongside you, palm uppermost. "Hop on," she says, "and you can try talking from closer to my ear."
Quentin appears to have made himself scarce as you find the simple process of climbing a hand becoming a monumental task to someone of your stature. Eventually though, you stand triumphant in a valley of flesh, towering fingers standing as sentinels to ward against your falling.
Then you fall over as Miss Hensley stands, and raises her hand to her face. Her face, which is even bigger up close, but no less perfect. For all the monstrous power that even her eyelid holds for you now, she strikes you first and foremost as a beautiful woman.
"Of course, there's no time for talking right now," she says. "We've a briefing to attend. Hold on tight."
You do as she says, discovering in the process that your arms aren't long enough to meet when you wrap them around her finger. You are very small indeed, it would appear.
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