Redemption. Oh how that would be nice. How does one redeem himself from being a violent psycho killer? The Angel was slightly off putting. Her religious words and her formal speech just wasn't normal in today's times. This other man sounded normal, even with his slang. Her question was one he had been asking himself since he got here, why was he here? A church of all places could not help him, not really. He was hungry, it always made him go places he wouldn't normally, to try and stave it off, to try and avoid what he needed to do to survive. Normally taking a little at a time worked, kept it at bay, but sometimes he just got hungry, as if the beast within needed more than little nibbles. Didn't help that the angel was attractive, why the hell did that make it worse? So many questions and never any answers. He inclined his head to the both of them, 

"I am called Devilstrider." He wondered if they'd recognize the name. He wasn't exactly famous, but criminals in particular seemed to know it. Eat enough people and it tends to get around. He held out a hand to the Angel, 

"You are?"