Megan startles and narrowly avoids spilling what's left of her drink all over herself -- which, to be fair, she totally had that coming after the ten million times she's teleported behind people for the express purpose of scaring them. She breezes right past any awkwardness there, though, and laughs -- "Thank you! You work at the Vault?" She doesn't recognise her, but Megan doesn't recognise a lot of people there, especially the ones who work the floor but not the stages; there are likely dozens of employees she hasn't even seen before. The other woman's accent piques her interest -- there are a lot of Americans in their Cohort, it's nice to hear another Brit. (Megan's voice, lower and huskier than one would expect given the way she looks, has a distinct Welsh tinge.)

Glancing back at her drink, she laughs again, a little tipsy herself, and shrugs. "Well, the day I turn down free booze is the day we see little flying piggies, so!" She started with cocktails and has ended up with whiskey on the rocks, which she's sipping instead of slamming or else she'd be way drunker right now. After taking care of that, she holds out one of her hands with the absurdly long nails. "I'm Megan."