"You, uh... yeah, you could say that, I think." Maybe if she is MAXIMALLY NONCOMMITTAL she won't trap herself into revealing anything she shouldn't.

"I could! Excellent. Now, I, perhaps like you, was informed upon my arrival in this place that all Earthly religions were wrong. This did not come as a particular surprise to me. Perhaps it came as a particular surprise to you! But as a man who has spent the majority of his life interacting with systems of moral and ethical logic, I have long believed that Earthly religions mostly lacked internal consistency. They did not have, as you might say, the spark of the divine. They had the spark of the tragically mortal. They sought to explain why, not how. - I'm getting distracted. People talk about the 'seventy-two virgins,' a muddy and ill-considered mistranslation of the Qur'an. People talk about 'a land of milk and honey'. Heaven, in a word, is pleasure."

He turns to Veronica, his eyes just a little bit wild. "Veronica Chaplin, have you experienced pleasure in this Good Place?"

She opens her mouth and what comes out of it is, "Coming on a little strong there, aren't you?"

No! Bad! Should not talk to her quote unquote soulmate like that!!

"—sorry," she says, in a voice that sounds as though someone is trying to squeeze the sarcasm out of it with some kind of industrial sarcasm press. The strain is palpable. "Um. No, I have not... as such... I mean, it's just orientation, right? Everything is very... nice... here, I'm just... ad...justing?"

He barks out a laugh, then - holds himself very still and breathes in and out. "I apologize. I have no intentions on your virtue. I - this is a stressful situation for both of us, I think, and I should not be taking it out on you, certainly not if you are - going to be living with me." He collapses back into the ostensible chair. "I have access to information which, currently, you do not - which, ostensibly, no one else does. That information colors my perception of this place quite strongly."

He grits his teeth. "You are, perhaps, under the impression that we are 'soulmates.' I have my doubts about that concept in and of itself - but coming as it does from a source which should have no reason to mislead us, I might accept it - were it not for this fact that I have hidden from the world."

He looks Veronica in the eye. "I am not attracted to women. I am, in fact, attracted to men. It would have to be a rather poor Heaven that picked you for my soulmate."

...that gives her pause.

Her face passes through several expressions in semi-overlapping sequence—surprised, confused, taken aback, thoughtful, considering, reconsidering—and she concludes, "Reasonably sure I'm not a man."

"I am, if not happy to hear it, then pleased to have saved you the discomfort. But perhaps you understand now - some things I can overlook. The general air of unease, the adherence to a tacky Americana-centric standard of happiness, the - clowns - I could live with those. But the idea that God in His Heaven looked down and knew enough about my internal motivations to set me confidently in the Good Place, but could not penetrate my closet - something is wrong. This Good Place is not functional. And I want to investigate if it is only me - and if not, why. I made inroads with a girl at the orientation, and I intend to visit her, ask her some probing questions. If you would like to come with me, you are welcome. I intend to bring her some baked goods."

"I... am gonna be totally useless at the baked goods part, but sure, I'll tag along, I guess."

The second the words are out of her mouth, she regrets saying them. She's barely holding it together in front of this lunatic, how is she going to handle even more people? But it's too late now.

"Excellent! If you don't mind, you can still assist me with the baking - it should only take about half an hour, and I could use an extra pair of hands no matter how inexperienced."

Tintin makes a pan of brownies. They come out slightly too crisp, but it's difficult to really mess up brownies. Then, holding the pan between a pair of oven mitts, he turns and says, "Janet?"

"Yes?"

"Please take us to the house of the nice girl I met at orientation."

She does so.