Meg considered that little tid bit. What had he heard that she hadn’t? She’s heard plenty of strange things so far, but nothing that smacked of fatalities. Still, she supposed a place that could drag an alternate version of herself into the mix would have more than enough power to kill anyone it wanted. That was disconcerting, but she wasn’t particularly worried. She’d was a professional survivor and so was Dean. Whatever this place threw at them, she was certain they could handle it.
“Wizard, that makes sense. So, immortal or cursed?” She paused to consider. “Or both? Tell a girl you died five times it makes her wonder.” She’d met a couple of witches once that had been around since the 1600’s and didn’t look a day over forty, but they’d never officially “died.” On the other hand, she’d known one wizard who’d died twice and been brought back but he still aged at a normal rate like everyone else. She assumed Quinn was the latter, having no idea how old he actually was, but she couldn’t rule out any options, really.
Reaching between them she grabbed the flask, shaking it lightly to see if anything was left and smiling at the slight slosh of liquid still present. “No more for you, Merlin. Lucifer only knows what’ll happen if you keep drinking. I’m not the type to carry a guy home if he passes out on me.” She unscrewed the cap and tilted the flask back downing nearly all the rest of the liquor in one go. She winked at him as she lowered it.