Good, more alcohol. Richie was glad there were options - of course, mixing vodka so blue it looked like a sunburned sky and rum with its own brand of cinnamon burn meant that he'd be puking up some pretty interesting colors, but. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
"Who?" he quipped, but yes, of course it was him. "Yeah, hi. Glad you could make it."
He poured a shot and knocked it back and, as predicted, it was kind of a razzle dazzle on the tastebuds and reminded him of jolly ranchers. Nice. Then he offered one of those shot glasses and the vodka to Nicky, an exchange of booze. "How's the, uh - you've still got that shirt in the bag?"