"Yeah, of course," Beverly nodded, taking the sweater with a soft thanks - she could tell by the way Richie hugged her that he wasn't okay. Surface level, maybe, the physical - but he'd been bathed in a light that was all primordial evil, a rabbit hole that you'd fall down forever and ever and always; catatonia was one of the lucky ways to escape the Deadlights, if you even escaped at all. Luckily they both had friends who thought fast and believed, and they were out of it but the scars still lingered.
Not to mention the scars of everything else - she'd seen it, she heard it, him howling with misery when they dragged him away, the evil vanquished but Eddie's body still trapped. The hurt of it all punched through Beverly, it ripped through her bones - she thought he might need to get some of that off his chest too, but now, no wasn't the time. She put on that sweater and rubbed her arms, shivering.