"Wait... your dad and uncle-" Claire's voice trailed off, the blade lowering. The sun-ringed pentacle wasn't exactly a piece of fashion ink. Only a certain class of people knew what they meant. She was about to ask him for more details when a pair of shadowy black wings flitted behind his back.
That was a game-changer. Claire's eyes had been a little frayed before- now they snapped wide, hard enough to stumble back two steps from him, as if she'd been hit with a cattle prod.
Her insides felt that way, in any case. Twisted and electrified. Seeing something she hadn't seen in a long time, that instantly enflamed every horrible memory in her head. Suddenly the shock in her gaze hardened by anger. She brandished Tamiel's sword at him again, this time with much more determination and grit.
"Angels don't have dads or uncles," she hissed, but didn't advance. Not yet. "Not in the sense I know- and I fuckin' know angels. So what the hell did you mean."