It quickly became clear to Castiel that one set of sturdy clothing wouldn’t be enough. By the end of the day, he was covered in dust, sawdust still clinging to his hair and nothing but a thin canvas bag holding his suit and overcoat, and he couldn’t just keep wearing the same outfit every day. At least not in this line of work. He needed boots and socks and jeans and heavier workshirts if he was going to keep his job.
It was the foreman again -- a cheerful son of a witch and minor practicing one himself named Jake -- who took pity on him and pointed him in the direction of the Keleman District and the charity-run stores there, along with his first day’s pay. And it was feeling surprisingly sore across the back and shoulders for the hard day’s work that the adrift seraph found his way into the first store’s address he’d been given, pausing inside the door to get his bearings and not thinking twice about his dusty state as he did so.