This is also Michael's favorite holiday, surprising no one. It's loud, obnoxious, bizarre, and Hitler despised it. When Lee had told him there was a Purim party in town she wanted to take him to, he'd been thrilled. In his mind, more people like Lee in the world could only be a good thing.
Somehow, he hadn't realized this was the particular facet of herself she'd been referring to. Before tonight Michael hadn't spent much time considering either of their identities as sexual beings (other than the fact that they were miraculously compatible), but no one here will let him think about anything else. Even when someone Lee knows isn't grilling him about his personal life, the sight of all the guests—men with men, women with women, lots of costume-related crossdressing and flouting of gender in general—keep the subject on his mind. He is together with Lee in the same way these other people are together. He knows this means something about him, irrefutably.
Also on his mind is the fact that this is the first holiday he's spending apart from his father. It feels strange not to go to Temple, not to do things properly. It's felt strange all these weeks not to do a shabbat dinner. Pop would say all kinds of things, Michael can already hear it, about how naturally he's forsaking God now that he's chosen this path and how disappointed the rabbi would be. He tries not to let himself feel guilty. He's not a Good Jewish Boy. He always knew that.
Really, he is having a good time, though. A complicated time, but a good one. He's drunk, truly drunk, which is rare, and Lee should enjoy it while she can.
“How much drunker is drunk enough?” he asks her, pulling her against him. His bow tie is ridiculously crooked. “Can I say you're beautiful? I know you don't like that, plus I've already said it a lot. I guess I already said it again, even if you didn't give me permission. It counts when I say it, though. Do you count it when I say it?”