Richie really didn't have an answer to that question. At least not yet. He was lying there, on his back, flat on the bed and staring up at the ceiling - well, at least he was pretty sure it was the ceiling. It could have been the floor. His sense of balance and perception, all of that was skewed.
Slowly, he blinked, the world coming back into focus. Julia's room, after a battle of wits against some otherworldly darkness - bleh, he really hoped that was the end of it.
"Yeah, I think a drink would be good." He sat up, carefully, adjusting crooked glasses. "I'm fine - are you okay? That was about as gross as I thought it would be." Maybe more so.