Knowing that she was a telepath, it wasn't like Nick didn't come here fully prepared. He had a telepathic jammer, requisite for any S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. In anticipation of what she'd just done (which he didn't like, no matter how prepared he was, hearing someone else's thoughts in his head gave him the fucking creeps), he had the jammer set specifically to allow her to see his surface thoughts. He thought maybe he could put her at ease if his mind wasn't totally locked to her, but if she went any further into his brain the jammer was supposed to send back psychic feedback like some kind of telepathic shock collar.
"Fair warning, Ms. Frost," he said, still perfectly affable, as he joined her in the VIP Lounge, "Go any deeper than that and you won't like the consequences." It was a professional courtesy to inform her of the fact.
He pulled out a chair for her at a table and then sat down across from her, leaning his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers under his chin. "So. I was hoping I could offer you some contract work."