"Or we could just tell each other and actually meet up sometime," she giggled. "When you're not busy that is..I'm only ever really busy for a hour or so before we open until closing time." She told him. Because friends, nice friends were something she needed. And he certainly seemed nice. Even if he could read minds. Her PTSD was trapped behind layers of sweetness and thoughts about bunny rabbits. She didn't want anyone to see that. "No, mines just random..Though I think if I had the same gift I'd make sure it was off too..You don't always want to know what others are thinking."
When the man questioned her again, she only seemed to flush more. "I..I wouldn't know trouble. And he one hundred percent does." She shrugged a little in a noncommittal way. "And anyway, he's already got girls, so it's not like hes missing out." Her tone was a little sad. Like she knew she'd have to give up before she even started. And here she was, with a school girl crush, pouring out her troubles to a complete stranger because everyone she was close to had made it clear that it was a bad idea. "I'm sorry, no filter when I'm tired. I don't mean to pour my heart out."
"Well all our jobs are basically to try and make people happy for the night, but you make them happy for their afterlife and put them on the right course." She told him. Grinning when she spoke again. "I paint faces, that's not exactly flashy either."