Okay, well. At least there was that. It'd been a goddamned nightmare trying to play it cool all while stashing away any utensils sharper than a butter knife. He really didn't want to have to do it again, or make Stan feel uncomfortable for shit like that either.
But he had had to ask. That was a thing. And Richie wasn't well known for not just saying shit that was on his mind, so apparently it worked out for the both of them now. Sort of. Stan was still being weird and Richie wasn't any kind of good with stuff like that. This town needed a therapist or something.