"The oh so not aptly named Joy at the counter can't decide if I scare her or turn her on. The older lady there in the corner keeps glancing over because she's afraid I might sacrifice her cat on the table or start praying to Satan. But she'd never dare to look at me directly or say such a thing because it's simply 'not done'. The security guards are convinced I'm going to steal something despite the fact I've been vouched for by a tenant and the owner of the building. The little computer geek there by the window is in intense denial because he things I'm hot and would very much like to see if I have a tongue stud and what I can do with it."
Beat.
"And you," he added, lowering his voice, "don't like to make eye contact. It makes you nervous. My guess is it's one of two things - you're either afraid of how you'll see yourself reflected in someone else's eyes, or you're afraid of making them nervous because you're eyes are dead. I'd also be willing to bet you were sizing me up for a coffin. Don't worry, it won't be a drug overdose."