"I'm quite certain."

Lucifer opens the door when it's unlocked and settles himself in the passenger seat; the movement is awkward, like he's never done this before and isn't quite sure where all his limbs are supposed to go, or perhaps like he's walked some five hundred miles and is sore as hell. Toss up, really.

He is aware that he is not the most savory passenger to have right now, but there is little that he can do about his appearance. The relief at being off of his feet is immense and nearly overwhelming, and he eventually settles into a position that hurts the least. How do humans live like this, every moment of their lives? How do they stand it?

He tilts his head slightly towards Daniel, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Why are you so adamant about helping me?"

It seems a reasonable enough question; this road hasn't been busy, but it hasn't been completely deserted, either. There have been plenty of people who saw him walking and just kept driving on.

"I could be a criminal, for all you know. Or a murderer."