He laughed, but it was more startled than anything, and much more bitter than happy. He didn't think that sounded sketchy at all, actually; he'd heard so many worse things, some of which had actually made him pause for a moment. But not this.

"You don't know me, either. No one's ever called me sweet. Pretty sure no one's ever even thought it." His smile was hollow. "People think I'm a monster." And he hadn't really done anything to change their minds, but there was a certain safety in appearing dangerous. If people were genuinely afraid of the consequences, the chances they would fuck with him were much lower.

"Everyone's got skeletons in their closet." He was trying not to be a hypocrite. He was trying not to say that maybe, the fact she was sure she'd go to hell meant she felt guilty about whatever'd happened, and bad people didn't usually feel guilty about doing awful things. He didn't say it, because he knew then he'd have to apply that logic to himself, and it was so fucking hard to even begin thinking of himself as a good person.

"People are allowed to change though, you know? You could've fucked up in the past, but it doesn't mean you're still the same person who did that thing." He didn't know what sort of things she felt responsible for, but he would've said this either way. People could change and learn and grow.