Max cracked his knuckles again, sizing up the new arrival. Sure, she didn't look like much, a new-age Hippy with the vocabulary of a sailor and the garb of a skater. If anyone was a walking example of being more than meets the eye, though, he was one of them (as was most of the people in this room, for that matter), and unless the werewolves had sent one of their premature cousins to speak for them, she was also capable of transforming into a nine foot tall slab of muscle, claws, teeth, and painful death pretty much at will. So, he settled for nodding cheerfully from his seat.<br/><br/>"Welcome to our little circle of wonders, Peggy. I'm Maxwell Stavrikos, I talk to ghosts. And occasionally, punch them in the face."