Woe does not know what a 'Lesbian' is supposed to be, but the sight of those particular dark glasses on a skull already predisposes her to biliousness. She bristles like a furious sea urchin, all quivering offense.

"I am not," she says, scornfully, drawing herself up to her full height, setting them about eye to eye, which is another irritation. "I am trying to get past you. So move."

She has endured enough already today without giving way to some curious brat.