Well. That's different. Glados continues to frown though the cause is becoming increasingly, frustratingly abstract. The woman continues to say nothing outwardly objectionable, continues not to assist her determination of the extent of this dream's... quirk. She is altogether... polite.

Why must she be like this.

"Yes, I did," she says, resentful but quiet. "It is quite recent. I am..." No. She cannot say she is adapting. And she does not wish to speak of her past history with strife. She must keep this very simple. "...Unhappy," she decides eventually.