Meg watched herself, let the silent continue to stretch on and on until the other spoke after her drag from the cigarette. Oh, she hadn't had a cigarette in ages. A part of her was tempted to ask for one, and after some consideration of what the other brunette had said, she moved with a wave of her hand toward a bench. One hand swept away a bit of rubble left behind--this place was just a real wreck and not everyone got the pretty treatment. Closer to the center of the town, closer to the lower numbers in shops, Stark Tower, and brownstones, it was nicer. The apartments weren't so bad, either, but you had to slough through a lot of crap and books to get to the floor. She still wasn't done.
"Saddle up, cowgirl," she pat the bench with one of her adorable if not sarcastic smirks. They weren't going to get anywhere if one of them didn't give in, and seeing as she had the answers, she was going to tell the story.
"Tell me," Meg mused lightly. It was not so much a commanding way, as she knew she would not respond appropriately, but more of a request. "Where are you from? What year? What's happened there? I ask because, Hell if I know, and I have a suspicion I've never been there. Not with the way you and that Other Dean are palling around. They still didn't like me much, even if I saved their asses. Tch."