She could tell the moment his interest shifted to her properly and she resisted the urge to preen under the attention. She liked when people looked at her, not seeing what she actually was, not understand what it was they were talking to. It gave her a bit of a thrill, a sense of accomplishment that never really got old. She smiled at his question. She hadn’t intended that particular comment to be a talking point. It had merely slipped out, but now she could see the appeal of it. He was a nice guy. Of course he would be curious about such a statement.
“Well, you see,” Meg said, leaning towards him conspiratorially, “I’m not a very good girl. Certain people…certain things wouldn’t hesitate to take a chunk out of me.” She paused for a second. It wasn’t exactly true. The kid had let her go unharmed. He hadn’t made a move to follow her though she knew angels didn’t have to be seen unless they wanted to be. For all she knew, he was standing behind them right now. The thought sobered her slightly and she frowned. “That friend of mine?” she plowed on, attempting to rush right over her momentary pause, “they’d take a chunk out of him, too. I’d rather it were me,” she added, a touch too honestly and shook her head, leaning back on her elbows in the sand. “So here I sit. What’s your excuse? Just moping or is there more to it?”