"What's wrong with my look?" He looked down moderately confused. The hodgepodge of clothes he wore, were similar to clothing that the people around him wore. They were stolen, but Meg could not mean that. Perhaps she meant how he had been homeless while he had the clothes.
"I am homeless," Castiel had been homeless for years now and the words were spoken as a calm fact. He had thought of going home to heaven one day but he would never belong there. He did not truly belong on earth either, but people were surprisingly welcoming. The angels would never open their arms to him the way people had, he had done too much. "These are warm. I had to leave my other clothes. They were covered in blood." He clinked the ice in the glass he held and shifted with the discomfort he felt. "Haven't had any money to replace the suit."