Sharp green eyes burned from underneath the scraggly red mop. As she assessed him over the wine glass, the angel took in her stature. Her flimsy orange shirt wasn't doing its purpose in shrouding her figure, and it seemed to be by design. Her rings caught his eye. "Demon symbols? Really?" She smiled coyly, "You can't blame a girl for trying. With heaven unzipped and Sam and Dean AWOL, it helps to have a bit of a security against things that go bump in the night. Even if they're just like me." He analyzed the light way she moved, and noticed her wary glances towards each corner. She grinned coquettishly, but beyond her face was a story of all he had missed. She moved cautiously, almost like a cat that had seen too many scraps. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. If I'd have known, I-" "Easy there, Clarence," she murmured, "No need to get your panties in a twist. Now your friends, those bastards can twist their pretty little G-strings every which way they please." Castiel stared miserably. "Are you going to pout until you feel like you've made penance?" Her voice was a pitch higher than her last vessel, so it was almost comical to hear her get angry. "Aw, baby angel made an internal joke. Care to share, unicorn?" "I'm just happy you're here, Meg. And for the record, I like the new hair."