Look, it wasn't like Richie was used to having clandestine meetings in bathrooms or anything. It's just where he'd been, and it was relatively private. It was small. If he ended up saying something, anything, it wouldn't go further than these four little walls. It was barely putting it out into the world at all.
The joke was expected at this point. And it was true, Richie wouldn't be Richie if he didn't tell it, even if it wasn't funny. So he told the joke. And then he crossed his feet at the ankles, leaned back until his back was against the mirror and his attention was directed on Stanley.
Work dreams. It figured. Stan was responsible like that -- and it wasn't even like, a normal kind of dream, where he was late or showed up naked or something. It was just about a stressful presentation. Stan was so fucking cute sometimes. Richie couldn't help but smile. "Do you think it means something?"