Names. Esteban allows the rain to drip down into his hair again, a fraction of distraction that lingers under his skin. He takes a slow, deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool wet air, allowing it to be a comfort, a grounding source, before he answers with a bit more cheer in his voice, pulling himself together for the sake of his lingering companion.

"I'm Esteban." There's an audible smile in his voice, even if it remains soft, unwilling to disturb the peacefulness of the moment. "What 'bout you?"

He's glad. He's glad the stranger isn't lost, that as new as he had been on the train, he hadn't been expelled or rushed out by accident. Searching for someone, searching for people he didn't know well hadn't-- been his brightest idea. He wants to get to know him, wants to cheer and talk and ask all sorts of questions. But they'll have time for that. They'll have time, later.

He's still getting a little chipper just at the prospect of it, though.