Richie took the box on offer, pulling tissues free to press against his nose, not particularly relishing the feeling of blood-soggy paper on his fingers. Still, it was better than the alternative of throwing up, which was usually the first thing his body wanted to do when Richie was doing or thinking shit it was against. It probably wasn't too late, mind, but he was avoiding it for now.
And -- well. Okay. Richie had no fucking idea what that meant, what Dan was telling him. And for once in probably his entire fucking life, he really couldn't think of anything to say in response (the fact that he had a fistful of tissue in front of his face wasn't really helping, he supposed). So after a beat, when it didn't really seem like Dan was going to explain what the fuck a Shine was or what unlocking it all at once meant, he rose what he thought to be a very polite and not at all sarcastic (mostly) eyebrow up in questioning.