You’ve been dead for about an hour now, sitting in Hells lobby with wide eyes. How did you end up there? Out of heaven or hell you get sent here. You bury your head in your hands, beginning to tear up as you realize your fate. A hand makes its way to your shoulder, a man with pink hair checks up on you.

“You okay?” He swears to himself quietly. “I’m bad at the comfort thing.. sorry.” He clears his throat a bit, taking his hand away.