Intensity was good, Richie liked it - he was a people person, an extrovert; he also liked making people laugh, connecting with them on stage, providing a little form of escapism for just a little while. That genuinely made him happy and that positive attention felt almost like a high on its own, even if he gave up hard drugs years ago after dabbling (to try to fill the hole inside of him, typical bullshit like that - a loneliness that nipped at his heels and was always there no matter how fast he ran).
He liked doing these readings too, and wanted to be better at them. Wanted to keep improving, especially when it came to his own 'abilities' that he was still learning about.
"That's pretty cool, that it's a family thing," he said, idly shuffling those cards between long fingers. "I'll take all the help I can get, dude. No guarantees I'll be a stellar mediation guru or be able to do anything super cool but I can always try." Sometimes that was all you could do - and trying counted for something.
He glanced down at the cards he held, their energy making his palms feel warm. "Oh - yeah, I did. I picked the colors and stuff. Someone gave me the deck for Christmas, to make my own so I did. I have a couple other decks too. It's been pretty fun, learning about it all. Keeping busy here, when the hotel's not dropping us in Candyland." Or trying to kill them.