"You're probably right," Ravi agreed, with a small squint and a shrug of his shoulders. Who was to really say? Maybe here, maybe where Richie was from, they didn't. "And you're absolutely right about Dick because that was nothing like anyone really sounds."
He snorted at the thought of little kid Richie - smaller but with the same sized glasses, Ravi thought - harassing an Irish beat cop with a horrible accent. "I'd honestly pay to see it," he agreed. "The look on his face, not the inevitable police brutality."
Ravi made a slightly 'woo' gesture when Richie said he was psychic, wiggling fingers, and he settled back in to sip his lager. "Escargot chewy. It's all right, it's a valid, weird, morbid question. Usually we cook it into a real food. Tacos, sushi, chili, fried and battered, that sort of thing. Makes you almost forget you're eating brain."