He already knew she was a telepath (a quick scan of his thoughts proved that) and besides, who didn't know that these days? Who didn't know that Emma Frost could buy you and sell you and also switch your mind with that of a three year old, rendering you a drooling mess for the rest of your days?
The back room, the VIP lounge is fine, she said, letting her thoughts brush over his mind with a feathery touch. But bartenders hear enough gossip; they don't need to hear mine. Out loud, she ordered another cucumber martini and took it, sliding away from the chair and looking over her shoulder at Mr. Nick Fury, waiting for him to come along.