Richie was still a little awkward, too long limb and sharp elbows, but he'd filled out the way only adults could, that was true. Beverly was still petite, but being soft had never been much of a problem for her in the first place, and Richie was nothing but comfortable, the way they lounged together now. In fact, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pressed his cheek against the top of her head and just let himself drift for a while.
It might have been right on time, or maybe a few minutes later when he actually got around to replying, but time felt relative at best right now, so it was probably fine. "I don't think so," he said. "Not like, physically." Sometimes he threw up, but he did that when he was tense and nervous, too anxious to function properly. So that wasn't -- that was just Richie being Richie. "Sometimes I feel distracted." Then again, that might have just been Richie too, except he had new topics to feel distracted about, now. It was hard to tell.