Juliet had been at the bar for some time that evening. The week had been bad. Hell her entire transition had been bad and rough. She was still trying to play catch up. Getting involved with Dean Winchester was not helping things. His family confused her. Scared her even. Mary was nice enough, but she was also a hunter. The way she moved in when Juliet needed her help had been so precise there was nothing else she could have been other then a hunter. Then there was Dean himself. She didn't even know where to begin on that topic. He was complex. It was almost like separate personalities.
First there was the hunter side. The side that Juliet was first introduced to. The very first night she had arrived things had started rocky. Too many drinks later, she found herself at his apartment. Asleep on half a dozen guns stuffed under couch cushions and hidden in various places. She'd handcuffed him to his own bed having thought he was some kind of gun smuggler, or terrorist or something other then what she actually discovered he was. There was no way in hell she was ready to hear what he actually was, and then it was sprung on her. He broke down minutes into waking up with handcuffs on and disclosed his entire story to her.
At first she hadn't believed it, then there was a demon attack and she was forced to believe it. She was hospitalized due to it, Dean had again come to her rescue like the hunter he was. The hunter wasn't the only side of Dean she saw. There was a compassionate and protective side to him that showed up in moments spent alone. Despite his rather loud attitude he was often quiet about genuine personal relationships. Though sometimes she seriously doubted he had many of those in his life with the way he reacted to things.
So she tried to be patient. Unfortunately she was not a saint. She was human, and as such had human limits when it came to frustration and crushing stress. Those levels of emotion only rose to new heights she'd not been well versed in when Dean stopped talking. He broke down and she was there. Then he stopped talking for nearly two weeks and she didn't know what to do. Cas had given her options, fold or steel. Juliet didn't know how to do either to the extreme. So she chose something she did know how to do.
She went to the local bar and ordered up a scotch. By the time she noticed that anyone was talking to her she was on her third drink. Thanks to Irish blood though she was no where near inhabitation though. So she looked up to the voice and offered a strained smirk. "Am I that transparent?"