Lee opens her mouth to be like 'the establishment of what,' but she doesn't get a word in because now these two are yelling at each other. Tzipporah might be tiny, but what she lacks in size she makes up for in volume. They can probably hear her outside on the street. "He's not invited because he's a square. I mean, he's all right usually, but a square's a square, you know? Whose sex life are we shitting on? Yours?"
"We're not talking about this," Lee says, loudly — for her, which is not loud at all.
"Oh, don't be a pill." Tzipporah pats Lee on the cheek and steamrolls right over her objection. "He's probably just jealous he hasn't been with a woman in, what, five years? I mean you are doing it, right? He's so tall, I'd think you'd need to use a footstool or something."
"We're not talking about our sex life!" Lee shouts loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the room. Someone laughs, not unkindly.
"Don't worry, you'll get there someday." Tzipporah beams helpfully first at Lee and then at Michael.
"I don't — you —" Lee sputters herself into impotent silence, face red enough to be seen from space. After a moment she disentangles herself from Tzipporah and goes in search of yet another drink.