“True,” she conceded with a slight bob of her head. Part of the appeal of a place like this was its relative quiet. She considered his statement, wondering if maybe it was a thinly veiled hint that she should leave him and his solitude undisturbed, and decided she didn’t particularly care. She was bored and when she got bored she tended to act out. At least this way she wasn’t likely to do something that might get her ass in trouble. And, unless she was much mistaken, this guy was new. She’d seen his post on the net and, if luck was with her, he wouldn’t know her double, and thus not know what she was.
“Lucky for you I bring my own,” Meg shot him a wink, pulling a small silver flask from her back pocket. It was no longer full, but she’d been carefully rationing out her remaining store, since she still had no idea how long she intended to stay out. She couldn’t be sure if that abomination claiming to be hers was still watching and she wasn’t going to lead it back to Dean. Unscrewing the cap, she tilted the flask back and took a small drink, letting the whiskey burn her throat as it went down. She sighed in pleasure and held the flask out in his direction, eying him with a raised eyebrow, almost daring him to turn her down.
“Come on kid, it’ll put hair on your chest.” She shook it invitingly in his direction.