Sloth didn't know why she didn't just expect to be laughed at 24/7. Of course he was a saint. That's why he was helping her. She slouched again, this time putting her feet up against the dash just to show she didn't even care if he laughed at her, whatever even. Muttering, "saints think they're so shit hot and they're not," under her breath with a shrug, she sharply bit off a chunk of licorice and stared moodily out the window, feeling echoes of the last time she'd tangled with the devil and come out worse off. Saints and sins should not fraternise, it only got you in trouble.