Richie Trashmouth Tozier (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} trashmouthloser) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} snapthread, |
Richie liked the hammock plenty, but that didn't mean he didn't like the bed, too. He might like the bed more for actual sleeping, if he was being honest. Because he was forty and his back suffered when he did things too recklessly these days. But he -- just.
He didn't know. He wanted so damn bad, but he just didn't know how to take or where to start and every time he thought about it and then let a day pass, it just felt even harder yet the next time. "You could always drag me into the bedroom," he said, waggling his eyebrows playfully. It was a joke, and sort of a hopeful one, but it wasn't really fair to put it on Eddie, either.
Look, Richie loved arguing, especially about shit that he knew Eddie was right about, because that made it somehow, even more funny to deny. But even he knew when he'd lost too much to even argue. Most of the time. Anyway, he didn't want to focus on how much he hated this one key, how they'd have to go check that room out, how it felt a little bit like lambs being led to a slaughter that they didn't know about. Which was -- maybe it was stupid. Nothing had happened. They'd just seen some stupid creepy kids.
But just because Richie was close to blind didn't mean he was unobservant.
"I don't think it flows at all, because no one should have a last name that's half an alphabet long. But whatever you prefer," Richie said, because he wasn't thinking of anything beyond possibly writing their last names together in a notebook, all cursive writing and bubble hearts.