She tilts her head to one side, contemplating him carefully. She has a vague familiarity with the Devil as a concept, but she had long since assumed that, were 'hell' an actual real place that people actually really went, she had already glimpsed it in the form of a gash in the fabric of the world at the bottom of the sea.

Hell was never red, to her. It was never made from fire. It was blue and bioluminescent, water rushing from the crackling seam between worlds.

"Angels seem to look very human, here," she says, inflecting the words politely but with a fair amount of skepticism to be expected from one who has just been informed that their impromptu conversation partner is, in fact, a celestial entity.