Ah yes, Jed. He'd worried her a few times during their first meetings – far too rambunctious to have survived anywhere near this long by any laws she'd been taught – but by now she's almost used to it and he gets a laugh rather than an introduction to the business end of one of her toys - “You, Walker, are far too charming for your own good, you know that?” - followed by a slightly more concerned “Someone's goin't' take objection to that one of these days.” Isn't going to change facts, because Jed is who Jed is and nothing will ever change that, but she'd feel better when the inevitable happened if she could console herself with having tried to warn him first...
… Jesus, is she getting soft in her old age or something?
… ah, that old chestnut again. Seems every other week the boy is in here shopping for a way to get over a broken heart. Sensible thing to do, it seems to her, is stop giving the damn thing away every turn around, but hey. Not her place. Besides, he keeps her in business.
“I'm hurt, kiddo.” - a frown, theatrical rather than genuinely hurt - “Have you ever known me not to have all sorts of shiny waitin' here for you? What sort of toys you lookin' for this time?” Extracting herself from his grip she heads back to the desk, declining to comment on how they could make her life less boring. It's just Jed being Jed and she's known him too damn long. There's a big ledger in one of the drawers; it makes a satisfying 'thud' as she drops it on the desk and slides back into her seat, and she adjusts her glasses before flicking it open, running a finger down the list of acquisitions. Others in her line of work might question the wisdom of paper records, or think her methods archaic, but there's something comforting about doing things the way they've always been done.