“Thanks,” Meg replied sardonically, arching an eyebrow. She was well aware of what her face looked like and, though it had been a shock the first time she’d looked at herself in a mirror after climbing out of Hell, she’d long since gotten used to it and come to appreciate the contours and rough edges. It was certainly more her face than her human one had ever been. That girl…she could barely remember the features at all after so many years. She was what she was, and she wasn’t ashamed of that. “Beauty is clearly in the eye of the beholder.” She set the flask back down in the sand and turned towards him, full on, her feet practically coming into contact with his leg as she twisted to sit Indian style.
“Bullshit aside, how is it you can see my face now, but you couldn’t when I sat down?” she asked in a businesslike tone. “That’s a handy little trick, but seems a bit slow out of the gate.” She let her eyes slowly trail over him, looking for signs of what he might be but, as far as she could tell, what he said was accurate. To her eyes he was simply human. She leaned closer, as though proximity might improve her vision, clearly not afraid of being close to him despite the change in mood, but he remained the same. She wanted to reach out and touch him, see if physical contact would improve her senses, but she didn’t think he would allow such a thing and, whatever he was, she couldn’t be sure that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hurt her.