Baptist. Steve's first thought was an image of a traveling preacher, yelling at people and hitting them to drive demons out, and speaking in tongues. At least his brain had enough common sense not to let him blurt that out loud, though.

He opened his mouth, then paused, unsure what he could say that wouldn't offend her. He agreed, to a certain extent, with what she was saying - but on the other hand, he was firmly entrenched in his own religion, which put emphasis on requiring an intermediary in the form of a priest or bishop, to intercede with God on his behalf. He knew enough about other religions to know Catholicism was about the only one that did that, as well as several other practices that had the rest of the country calling them superstitious and other things.

Finally, reaching up to rub his neck, Steve shrugged. "It's complicated, I guess." Suddenly he was remembering his mother telling him not to discuss religion or politics at the dinner table; by that she'd meant 'with acquaintances you don't know well, and don't want to alienate'. Whoops.

They'd reached the apartment, and Steve moved forward to open the door for Marie.