The subtle rush of sound announcing someone else’s arrival made Meg turn. The young man didn’t look like much, in her opinion. Small of stature, small of frame. Familiar in an odd way, features wise at least. She wondered if she knew him from somewhere. Or maybe she’d met his parents at some point in her past. She couldn’t put her finger on it. More concerning was the strangeness of him. There was a tinge of darkness to him that bespoke demonic presence, but he didn’t seem to be possessed. Strange enough…but stranger still was the faint touch of grace. Had she never stood in Lucifer’s presence, she might not have known what it was. The burn of goodness, of a clean soul, almost made him glow beneath the skin. A human wouldn’t see it. But she most definitely did. Meg took an involuntary step back, confusion causing her to lean more towards the flight instinct rather than the fight.
“Hey yourself,” she said, noncommittally, cursing herself for coming out alone. Just because he didn’t look like much on the outside didn’t mean anything. He was clearly much more on the inside. And whatever that much more happened to be might not be friendly towards someone like her. She should have brought Dean.