Mentioning Stan made her actually hiccup, the shock of it all rattling her bones. Beverly didn't understand this world but if it meant she had Eddie, and she had Stan, then maybe it was okay. Now she knew what Richie meant, when he said it had nothing but also everything.
Her nose was running - freezing cold snot, and her eyes were rimmed with red and bloodshot; surely she'd looked better in her life but it wasn't like she cared right now. She still had Richie's ugly sweater and she used the sleeve to dab at her eyes before sucking back the rest of that cigarette - stress, stress, more stress. The embers were flicked to the winds, and they drifted.
"Yeah," she decided. "I want to. I want to see Stan, tell him I'm sorry." Actually finding a place to stay had been a thought in the back of her mind, but she was glad that it was settled now - one less thing in this cacophony of weirdness and changes and feelings of acrobats in her stomach to deal with. "I want to talk to you too," she added, reaching out, squeezing Richie's arm. "When I get used to this and...everything. After all that happened, I'm worried about you."