[Luckily for Byerly, Richie may be sharp but he has zero context for what is or isn't real in the distant tomorrow. Outside of what Byerly feeds him the whole prospect seems a deadly array of possibilities.]
It's 1959! [But of course to this man, that clarifies nothing.] These hoodlums haven't even seen a microwave yet. What, you could clear out crummy eyesight but you couldn't cure the family madness?
[He wasn't exactly being subtle, now was he? So sue him. Richie shakes his head slowly, gaze drawn inexorably back to that diminuitive form.]
No. Stan makes it out as a kid. It's later that he—when Mike made the calls, that the murders were starting up again. He hung up the phone and he took a bath.
no subject
It's 1959! [But of course to this man, that clarifies nothing.] These hoodlums haven't even seen a microwave yet. What, you could clear out crummy eyesight but you couldn't cure the family madness?
[He wasn't exactly being subtle, now was he? So sue him. Richie shakes his head slowly, gaze drawn inexorably back to that diminuitive form.]
No. Stan makes it out as a kid. It's later that he—when Mike made the calls, that the murders were starting up again. He hung up the phone and he took a bath.