Broken Antler Fen It's all there in the gospels

It surprised him to hear her assure him- with a straight face no less- that he could be saved. He gazed at her for a moment, his features equally as calm and demure, trying to figure out if she was just yanking his chain, or if she actually was some kind of religious fanatic, but she didn't break her facade. So a moment of silence was spent as they regarded one another, until eventually his lips twitched, and pulled into a slight, wry grin. "I dunno. Hell sounds like more fun to me." He replied, giving her a wink. He didn't mind this one- so long as she wasn't actually going to try and convert him, or save his soul. 

She revealed the sort of sense of humour that he didn't mind, when she referred to a hag- and he was left simply to assume she might've been referring to herself, in a self-deprecative way. "I don't mind hags," He admitted, with a slight shrug of his shoulder. 

When she said she recognized his scent, he scrunched his nose a bit; she didn't look familiar, but perhaps they'd crossed paths before. But when she asked him about being Mal's kid, he snorted. "Mal's kid? Pfft- nah. I'm from Neverwinter Forest, sure, but I ain't one of his kids. He's got enough of them, though," The last part wasn't much more than a mutter, but likely clear and loud enough for Wraen to have heard the remark. So he shuffled his shoulders slightly, as though it might do some good for his reputation. "Jackalope Blackthorn," He said. "Not exactly 'at your service,' but 'at your doorstep,' I guess." He said with an absent-minded shrug.