Glados jerks back at the sneeze, looking downright offended by it. "Excuse you," she says sourly. She looks around in immense disapproval. "Well-made by what," she demands. "I am given to understand this is a collective dream? Who is designing the thing? It is highly impractical." She puts her hands on her hips, another unconscious motion. "I do not want to dream. I'm not meant to."