He lets her stare at the cards, doesn't move to put them away. It would seem rude to give her a reading and not let her look at the cards herself. He taps his finger on the chipped mug, wondering if he went too far. Sometimes, something he does and pulls on threads that one isn't ready for, following down a path that he shouldn't until it's nearly too late. It's why he exercises a lot more caution with scrying as of late.

(Scrying in the Harvard dormitory was not necessarily the brightest idea when he's surrounded by people he's no now longer sure he can trust.

Not that he trusted them anyway. Keeping secrets, not explaining the truth. Maybe Ronan was right to be angry. )

"I'd like the job." He smiles. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. I don't think I'm quite cut out for retail."

He chuckles a little. "But honestly you don't have to thank me for that. I didn't expect you to just believe me when it came to being psychic."