"It'll be okay," Beverly promised, staring at the wall. Or was that the ceiling? Was she upside down? She couldn't really tell - all she knew was that when she closed her eyes, and each time Richie breathed, it was felt like she was leisurely about to pass out in a pool float. Just kind of drifting too, feeling warm and fuzzy. "I'm glad you told me."
Or talked more about it, that is. She'd been concerned about Richie ever since she arrived, really - it just hadn't been a good time to bring things up. Like, Deadlights - those things.
She was drowsy. She'd probably sleep here, and wake up with a shit case of dry mouth and her lashes sticking together, feeling like she'd been hit by a bus. But that was fine. It was all fine now. Beverly had a plan, and that was much more than she'd had two hours ago.