Bill's stutter really had come back full force -- either that, or he was just really emotional right now. Gee, Stan wondered which one it really was. It was fine though. Stan just chewed at the inside of his lip and waited for it all to get out there, because what else could he do?
"She knew?" He asked, and although it came out as surprise, that quickly faded away. "She'd paused. When I asked her what I looked like when we grew up." The same, but taller, she'd said looking a little far away and Stanley had stupidly taken her words at face value and felt quite pleased (as if he had been particularly good looking, at that age). That was a terrible thing to have to live with, even if there'd been some forgetting in the middle of it all.
He glanced down at his hands, perfectly clean and cut nails, long fingers and his ring missing from his finger. "It's always been IT's fault," he agreed. It didn't matter that Bill had dragged them out to the sewers during the summer to look for Georgie, or again in order to hunt IT down. IT had been there already, and the Losers had seemed destined to meet it, whether or not Bill had lead the charge or not.
Did he agree that the choice he'd made was completely on IT? Not exactly. But Stanley wasn't going to argue that, either. "What do we do now?" He asked instead, glancing away from his hands and Bill to look up at the opulent ceiling of the hotel lobby and then the windows to some sort of new horror.