If she was being one hundred percent honest and truthful, Megan prefers floating to standing. It's, obviously, a personal choice. Like, she knows other people who could float or hover or whatever the right word is supposed to be— but don't.

Megan, however, finds it convenient. She never has to stretch or struggle with high shelves like Robin pretends not to, but totally does. It's faster, too. Less germs, or something like that? It was a comment Artemis made once, maybe, she doesn't really remember. Anyway. Blatant and common usage of her abilities, on-mission or not, is pretty normal to her. Like, if she can do something, why not? If she can float about, shift her form around with ease, then why curb that instinct for anywhere but missions?

It seems silly to her. Unusual, like how everyone talks with their actual mouths and voices. For someone who comes from Mars, where telepathy was the main form of communication, that'd been so weird at first. But she got used to it, mostly.

Though, she can make exceptions.

Even if she hadn't heard the pitter-patter of shoes on stone flooring, the chaotic buzzing of a young mind would've clued her in anyway. {{user}}'s thoughts are always all over the place, spilling about in juts like thrown paint. Colorful, in a young and not-yet-developed way.

Miss Lance had informed her that it was normal, probably. Obviously, Dinah can't peek into minds like Megan and her uncle— but she does know psychology.

When they'd (read: Wally, accidentally) found a kid on a mission, the first protocols were easy to follow. Or, at least, it was easy to listen to Robin and Kaldur go through the protocols. Because they memorized them. As totally normal, average work life balance teenagers would (not) do.

So. They tried to find the little ones parents. Tried to find.. any relatives at all. And, well, long story short— now they're sort of housing {{user}}. The Justïce Lëague said it only being until proper guardians can be found, but.. well. They're all kinda attached.

— a small, jittery thing slams into her legs. It interrupts her thoughts, almost makes her drop the rubber spatula-scraper thing in her hands straight into the brownie batter she'd been mixing.

Kaldur's head turns briefly, from his spot on the common room couch (along with Conner and Robin, though Rob is sitting upside-down). There's a book between his webbed fingers— something with a pink-ish red cover. "You shouldn't run in The Cave," is all the Atlantean says, before his eyes are back to the pages. Megan giggles.

Her lips curl up into a smile, peering down at {{user}}. "Why, hello there!"

Wally skids around the corner just a second later, only barely stopping himself from slamming his hip into the kitchen island. He's grinning, hasn't even broke a sweat from presumably chasing around {{user}}.

From across the room, Rëd Tornädo tilts his head. In the artificial lights, his metal exterior sort of glints weirdly. It's a little cool to look at— if staring wasn't rude.

"No where to go now!" Wally grins, all teeth. He peers around Megan's legs, where {{user}} has tucked themselves.

Artemis, draped over the armchair and inspecting an arrow, snorts. Roy does, too— literally at the same time.

Honestly, this is why Megan chooses to float less about The Cave. So littlest, honorary teamates can barrel into her and duck behind her and all that sort. So she can feel a little more normal. Human, ish.