Richie didn't touch anything either. Even though he sort of wanted to -- not the boxes. They were locked and chained and even he wasn't nosey enough to be so stupid. But he wanted to know what it was like, to touch something that shouldn't have been real or tangible or --- whatever this was.
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for his chance, because then they were in a place that was so much warmer than Dan's own mindscape. Warmer, but also, oddly, more closed off, in a way. Richie stared at the high ceilings and the stained glass and then glanced over at the games. So fucking many of them, Jesus, even his subconscious was aware he was a fucking nerd. There were tvs going, all static-y, like they weren't on the right input yet, and it made things loud even though there was no real noise happening yet.
Organize? he asked, glancing back over at Dan, although it was pretty clear his attention was torn because he had to keep glancing over at the games, again. I don't really -- he paused, considering for a moment. Wait. So, like. If I want to remember something from when I was younger...let's say, when I had a run in with the Evil Clown... He moved, browsing the haphazard stacks on the shelves until he found a particular game. He picked it up, but only to prove to himself that he could. Super Mario Land, the box advertised, but when he opened it up, there was a different cartridge inside. Street Fighter. I have to remember that I played this game after I played Street Fighter which is what I was playing when it happened.
What he meant to say was that his head was scattered and always have been and probably always would be. But he had his own way of doing things that made sense.