Sunny. ( He repeats, in the most reassuring, calming tone he's got. Honestly, considering he works (worked?) in customer service and considering the fact that his place of (former?) employment sits atop an eldritch rift in spacetime that often permits horrors to pass through, it's not half bad. ) Okay, cool. Hi, Sunny. I'm Jack. Wait- I already said that. It's fine. That's not important.

( Blame his awkward social fumbling on how thrown he is by this new place, by the fact that he's still coming to terms with it all. Both of those things are totally valid and fair, but the truth is he's just as bad at being eloquent when communicating outside of written text on a normal day. )

How old are you, Sunny?

( He'd say this kid seems a little young for Dante's Inferno, but honestly... he'd been roughly a little younger than Sunny looks the first time he'd read it himself. It they're both avid readers, maybe they'll have something to talk about other than dying, and death, and how they died, and what comes after death, and mortality, and not being alive anymore. Which would be pretty cool, and a slightly less depressing way to spend... however long it's going to take them to get to whatever's on 'the other side'. )