"You want to say psychics don't exist but you know they do," Dan replied with a wry smirk. He met the blue of Richie's eyes (windows to the soul) and yeah, what he felt was something that had rooted in there deep. Clinging like a damp blanket.
He dropped his gaze, down through blonde lashes and into his coffee cup. "It's like a darkness, I guess - like a hitchhiking one. It just kind of latched onto you, didn't it?"
The details weren't known - he could look, of course. But Dan thought that might be pretty damn rude. And besides, 'killer clown from outer space' sort of spoke volumes anyway.