Isabel wasn't the only one who noticed that look, or the comment that went with it. Claire's head listed toward one shoulder, her expression deadpan and more than a little judgmental. Not about being a pig, but for being a pig when they were in the middle of a fairly important fucking conversation.
"Well that explains a few things- considering the last time I saw you was my eighteenth birthday, right after we buried my mother," she started right back in on him without missing a beat. Dean Winchester could be intimidating as fuck- she'd seen powerful things run from his name alone. But Claire was angry, confused, and felt strangely betrayed. "I got this as a present- after skewering the bastard that fed on her for two years then killed her." Fast as any well versed with the weapon, Claire unsheathed the angel sword- not the shorter, gladius-like angel blade, but the blade wielded by archangels themselves- and buried it's tip in the floor between her and Dean's feet. She let the handle go and pointed right back at him.
"And I didn't say shit about him, besides the truth as it is to me- and since you're the only person I thought I knew here, the quicker I deal with it, the quicker you can get past it. So work with me, and help me understand this shit, because I'm not fucking going anywhere."
She huffed, sitting back in her chair with her hands clenched on her thighs.