Julia turned to look at Richie, her lips quirking in a small smile. The expression was fond, almost maternal. Which might have been silly. She was a good fifteen years younger than him and a foot shorter. But there was something about him that inspired a kind of protective compassion. She wondered if maybe he had never been on the receiving end of that. Well, she had her share of strange relationships with men older than her. Not in any skeevy sort of way. She just wanted to help them. And they needed so much of it.
"It's more dramatic that way," she agreed, her laugh soft and almost lost on the breeze, but there nonetheless. It was a valid enough argument as far as she was concerned. She certainly had no problem with drama. She'd had her fair share over the years.
"No," she assured Richie. "You didn't. I was beginning to worry you might not come at all. But you're here now. So, we should look at dealing with your problem." Because it was a problem. There was something dark and twisting and ugly inside of him and Julia wanted nothing more than to fix it. That had always been her biggest issue. She saw a problem and couldn't help but want to fix it. No matter what the cost might be. "Let's go inside. It's probably better if we work in there."