Putting his clothes into a bag and watching it be set down by the back door was -- strange. Richie wasn't a metaphors everywhere guy, but it felt a little final, like realizing that everything he'd made and built for himself and everything that he'd so recently remembered was just ... gone now. A chapter from his life closed, and this time he didn't even get the benefit of those memories slowly fading away until they were gone. They'd just sit there, heavy on his heart and shoulders.
He probably stared at that bag for a little too long, because when he looked up again, Cap-Steve was talking and Richie had to jostle himself enough to pay attention. "Something stronger," he said, sounding a little too desperate for his own liking, but what did it even matter, he didn't have anyone to be standing up tall for right now anyway. Steve didn't seem to be judging anyway.
Pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt, Richie offered something of a nod. Yeah. New clothes would be good. No point in a midriff t-shirt when it wasn't the 90's anymore and all he had to show was slowly purpling ribs. Fuck that was gonna hurt more later. Wait. "Tony?"