Lee's sexual identity is something she is never able to forget. She gets a lot of male attention, although less so when she is with Michael — men won't approach a woman who is already owned by a man — and while it's mostly positive attention because she passes well, in the forefront of her mind is always the fear of discovery, of being outed. Can they tell, do they know, if she wears trousers do people think she's a man or not, what is she allowed to wear to the beach? She has had to flee towns before because someone found out. It's not something she ever talks about; Lee does not like to make problems or complain.
Maybe someday, though.
"No, I don't count." She reaches out and paws at his tie, only managing to skew it even further. Her brows knit together in intense concentration. Her other hand is full of wine. How is she going to do this one-handed? How? "Don't say it though. Please." Poke. Poke. Poke. She's pretty dogged about this. She ends up just poking him in the chest a few times with her skinny needle fingers, her poking becoming less and less emphatic as she loses track of exactly what she was doing. Her hair is coming undone, falling in pieces around her face, and she lost a shoe somewhere.