Okay, the crude language, the invasion of personal space -- fine. Stealing her intro page? Fuck that.

Chell snatches the notebook away and stuffs it back in her pocket, glaring at Joan.

You must be someone else new, she signs rapidly. The point is, emphatically, not communication, but speed. None of the good little wives here would do that to my face. Well, good fucking luck getting anyone to help you get out of here with that attitude.