"That actually sounds sort of exciting," Beverly allowed - adventure through a door? Just visiting, no commitment to stay? Could be interesting. Could be a deathtrap. She guessed it was a tossup. Once upon a time, she appreciated taking risks and gambles and boldly facing danger - maybe that part of her was still a little smothered, but she'd wake up the sleeping bear if necessary.
Coffee shop, then. With presumably free drinks of the dark brew - well, alright. "But, right, yes. I think something hot would be good," she agreed. And she really needed a cigarette - needed the feel of that first puff, needed more than one, lungs raw and open, soaked in the tobacco. The burn in her chest and heat radiating in her throat - sure, it was a bad habit, but she had a lot of those. Just ask anyone.
She headed for the door, glancing back at Richie with a speculative squint of bluebird eyes. "You're still hiding a lot anyway. I can tell." Oh yes, Trashmouth - if sitting down over a cup of joe pulled forth the word vomit, then fine. Bev was patient. Where the fuck would she go? She had all the time in the world right now.