Richie did not look...great, when he got to the apartment. He wasn't dirty, his skin was clean and hair fluffy from being freshly washed, but his eyes were red and puffy behind thick, broken glasses and the grey hoodie he wore was clearly too small for him and clearly someone else's. He wasn't a small person by any means, tall, with long legs and long arms, broad shouldered and probably a little bigger around the middle than was ideal, but the way he held himself after pushing the doorbell, with his hands in the hoodie pockets and shoulders slumped, made him seem far less imposing than he could have been.
He wasn't sure how he'd ended up here. How a teenager had managed to convince him to come to her apartment for waffles when what he had really been wanting was to find a bar and drown. But here he was, just quietly hoping that whoever Tony was, he was already there. Richie didn't do so well with kids when left on his own.