"Okay..." All of that makes sense, to a point. Joan understands vengefully wanting something so badly that no one else could have it, coveting possessions and feeling the sickly pull of greed and envy. She knows she's not a good person. Those grooves within her soul are probably easiest for the demon to slide through.

But there's something she doesn't quite credit.

"But why does it want me?" She's useless. Even if she wasn't a horrible bitch with a rotten soul, her place in life is minimal at best, an existence barely scraped out.