Unsure really didn't cover it, here. Castiel frowned at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows tipping down as low as they possibly could go, and mouth forming a too thin line. "How--" but he paused before he could even finish the question. Suddenly, he recalled Anna's too-strange explanation from earlier.
On this ship, Sam Winchester was a woman.
And this person knew him. She carried herself and spoke in those mannerisms that were so Sam, could only be Sam, even with curves that Castiel suddenly felt awkward about assessing.
"Sam?" he said, sounding questioning, hesitant, even though he was well over ninety five percent positive he was correct. Absolutely, he refused to reach out to lean on the wall; he'd done more than enough of that for one day.