It wasn't... completely new. The incident with Murder Bro Galen and Not Beverly Barbara had happened -- ah. A while ago. Maybe a few minutes. Maybe an hour. Richie had lost track, mostly keen on just sitting where he was for a while to maybe his his heart to stop racing.
It had only sort of helped, his period of quiet self reflection. Mostly because after a bit his tongue was still bloody and his mouth was kinda numb so when he went to spit it out, the blood just sort of grossly went everywhere.
Fuck each and every single aspect of his entire life.
So he'd pushed himself to his feet, wobbled around a bit and --and now there was a gorgeous man with probably 20 abs standing in front of him, offering him clothes and a shower.
"What?" He said, and it came out hoarse and confused even as he reached over to shake hands with the Captain. He shouldn't have been so trusting, he was sure, but touching a man this perfect probably shouldn't have been allowed. Just the once, he told himself.