Danny felt hot under his collar and firmly told himself to get a grip. How did she do that, that simple thing of crossing her legs, and make it look so appealing? It was distracting and he felt his normal barriers slipping, like she was making it easier for him to talk.
"Humans with extras," he snickered and leaned back on his chair, slouching a bit. "Guess we can't get away from them completely, even in a sanctuary city." Shrugging, Danny seemed to brush it off and his hazel eyes brightened. "So long as they're paying customers, right? I get along with most anyone. Got a lot of experience handling drunks. Getting a safe ride home. That sort of thing." Generally people were nicer to the person providing them with alcohol. It was the waitstaff that got the brunt.