Richie was still just kind of reeling. Maybe that'd never change -- he felt like it wouldn't anyway, although he supposed deep down he was clever enough to know that most people got used to anything with enough time. But he didn't see how that was possible, not with Eddie Kaspbrak running around an alternate dimension New England town yelling about germs and lobster cosplayers when he was meant to be dead under a pile of rocks somewhere.
It was fucking weird.
It clearly had something to do with time, he figured. Since Eddie was one unfortunate day behind him. But Beverly? She was years behind. She was still in what one might assume were the good years in her life -- early thirties, high on success and far away from Derry. Richie knew better, because he wasn't a complete idiot and he paid attention but -- maybe they'd focus on that seven year gap thing first. Before all the rest.
The bar wasn't hard to find, not even with his busted and slightly headache inducing glasses situation -- there were plenty of folks who just seemed happy to help with pointing and giving proper directions involving hanging lefts and everything.
And when he stepped into the bar, Beverly was even easier to find. She'd always stood out in a room, and this time was no different. Richie would be embarrassed about how much she'd gone through a glow up when he'd become a cave troll if that hadn't always kind of been the case. "Hey," he greeted, and it was weird to feel anxious and comforted by the sight of Beverly all at the same time.