Yeah, a cup whiskey an some breath mints would go a long way just now, that was just a fact. Water would also maybe be okay, but facts were facts and Richie wasn't really thinking long term benefits just now. That all fell beyond his scope.
Mr. America 2016 stood in front of him, hands on his hips like he was ready to heft the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, like his stomach muscles alone could take that weight just fine. Richie hated it, immediately, because he was probably what perfection looked like and Richie had blood on his teeth and a receding hairline.
Fuck this guy.
But he wasn't quite stupid enough to say that outloud, yet. He didn't wanna see what wholesome looked like angry. So he just wobbled after Steve and his promise of hot showers and food. He was pretty sure he hadn't eaten a proper meal since Chinese at Jade of the Orient. It felt like a really long time ago, now.
"Richie Tra-- Tozier. You invite every person who ends up here into your house, Cap?" Captain felt too formal. Steve felt too familiar. Richie always had to find a good nickname to run with.