Creatures free of the need to sleep had no reason to fear a visit from the night hag, as they were of no use to her as platforms from which to dive into human flesh. Meng altogether ignored the Flashbulb and other designated costuming areas in spite of her vanity, safely assuming no one would bother fitting garments especially for a woman whose lifespan rivaled that of the night-blooming cereus. By morning she would be incorporeal again, her borrowed finery a crumpled and dirty mess on the ground where she last stood. To that end, what right did a spirit have owning any worldly possessions?
Left with a few hours before her next scheduled death and precious little to do with her remaining time, she allowed herself to be led by the sounds of commotion. People -- and she did not yet know Tobias as anything but another tedious person -- were interesting to observe when in the throes of a tantrum. Their items cast aside ranged from spare change to children's toys to broken jewelry and were not always as useless as their previous owners believed. However briefly, Meng was given the opportunity to treasure their trash, sometimes even amassing enough shiny coins to make small purchases. She lived for such relatively mundane accomplishments.
Imagine her disappointment to peek in on a man cursing in a foreign language as he collected bottled emptied of their contents. They were colorful; she'd given them that, and so too was the face of the person retrieving them. Beyond her initial observations, though, Meng struggled to find the amusement she so desperately sought. "Here," she began with noble intentions of handing over the foundation plucked from off the floor, only to hesitate when the powder tinted her fingertips a different color. How unusual to see the ghostly pale of her temporary skin adorning a sun-kissed copper tone!
Suddenly clutching the compact greedily to her chest, she took a backward step. If Tobias wasn't careful, she was likely to run off with it as she had done with so many trinkets in the past.