The woman wasn’t exactly hard to spot on the otherwise empty street and Meg laughed, not even attempting to keep the sound to herself. Still nearly half a block away, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and snapped a photo as she continue to walk. Without looking at her, Meg shot the picture to Dean without comment. He would know what it meant. If she got into a tight spot, he’d most likely already be on his way to her. She hoped so, anyway, though she doubted whatever this creature was could really give her a run for her money. As she came level with the small woman she let her eyes flick up and down in a not so subtle way. It wasn’t every day she go to get his good a look at her own body. Not for the first time she applauded her choice of meatsuit, though the one facing her looked like it had a few more miles on it than hers.
“Of all the abandoned streets, in all the abandoned towns in the world, you had to walk into mine,” she quipped, sliding the phone back into her pocket. “This the part where you tell me you’re not some two bit shifter and beg me not to gank you?” Meg flexed her fingers, briefly wishing she’d brought a weapon, just in case. But really, she didn’t think she’d need one. She was deadly enough on her own and always had been.
A strange inconsistency caught her attention, distracting her. The woman’s hair was wrong. The tint was just slightly off. Not by much, it was true. A human probably wouldn’t have noticed the difference. But she knew her face, she knew her hair, and she knew something wasn’t right about what she was seeing.
“If you’re supposed to be me, what’s with the dye job?”