Richie eased in to the hug, tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding seeping from his body. He'd always been a "hands-on" person, leaning on people, hugging, just touching all the time. But, in the twenty-some-odd years between leaving Derry and going back, he'd somehow lost that; become touch-starved and desperate but not aware of what it was he missed. And even here he'd started to crave the comfort that came from physically interacting with someone else without knowing what to ask for or how.
Even the firm touch on his neck was comforting, though he was sure it would have felt almost threatening if it came from anyone other than one of the six people he grew up with. Four people now. His mind was kind to remind him.
Eventually he eased back, standing straight again and scrubbing a hand over his face, both to wipe away and tears that threatened to fall and to give himself a moment to pull his mind back in. To not dwell on the ones who weren't here and focus on the one who was.
"When are you from?" he asked, giving Ben the chance to walk inside and then shutting the door behind him. "I see you're still..." he gestured one hand up and down the length of Ben's body, "a Greek God, so you can't be that far off from when I last saw you."