She should be angry because the city fired her when her models predicted unavoidable demographic collapse, or humiliated by the mocking she received for staying in what she had called a dead town slow on the uptake.
Instead she's laughing at the jokes of the man across the coffee table. But her mind never stops. Part of her is estimating how long it'll take him to propose.
Another part is thinking about the migration patterns of love, and irrationality as a rational tool, and how to convince the city to set up a properly biased dating site.