Richie turned toward Loki once he heard his voice, glancing down to the scars on his arms. They were obviously not the worst of them, the ones on his back had managed to grow with him, and though faded and a little distorted it wasn't hard to read the words there. But he saw the ones on his arms more, they were the ones that showed more often, the ones he had to get used to seeing every single day. "Yeah, something like that."
"Oh yes, how could I not make extra to share with the frail and elderly." Richie teased, setting his own mug aside to pour another cup for Loki and hand it to him.