Raised Catholic didn't mean much to her. She was in one foster home that had been Catholic, but they made her memorize Bible verses as opposed to actually reading it for herself. By the time she'd ended up in the incredibly Methodist home, she'd been twelve and only skimmed it when asked to read. How was she supposed to know that almost twenty years later she'd be living it?
Crossing her arms in front of her, not so much as protection but as a reminder to keep herself guarded, Emma tilted her head to watch his reaction. "Well, Mr. Moriarty, you've walked right into the thick of it. Revelations, the seals of hell tearing open and you being exposed. Lucifer's out and about and walking around like he owns the place. Angels should be stopping him but I think they're content to sit back and watch till we screw it all up."
His name sparked nothing in her because Emma had never been an Arthur Conan Doyle kind of girl. If she read, it was much more modern, like John Grisham and Dean Koontz. So she didn't even comment on it, rather kept an eye out around her in case one of those demons decided to show up. She really should sign up for some of those demon protection classes. A gun, she could wield. An exorcism? Not so much. It was Emma's nature to watch her surroundings, both as a member of criminal law enforcement, and as a kid who'd taken a whole lot of bullying.
"So, yeah. You're not the first. I found myself here pretty much the same way. Just dressed more warmly."