[Richie wasn't sure if he expected to see Gamora again at all. She was laying chilly in Wyver, which was a town ill suited to his own speed, and he'd been running ragged up in Olympia. Between the torture and the dying and wheezing himself silly over that marathon run down Memory Lane, he's not been in much mood to reach out himself. And she's not particularly social, that's all fine as paint. He can take a hint, even if he can't help but pester people anyhow. He knows to expect nothing. There's another guy chasing that line anyway, and he's never been keen on wrecking homes.

Still, he's glad when the door knock comes and she stands there solo, no angry boyfriend (or sulking hopeful, which is sometimes worse) clamped to her elbow. Richie grins broad.]

My my my, what a nice surprise! I was half expecting a no-show!

[From behind him, Janis Joplin is feeling those Kozmic Blues and the smell of hot enchiladas pulses out in a savory cloud.

Richie steps to the side, freeing up the door for entry.]

Welcome to the Casa de Rich. Make yourself at home, lady, dinner will be done in five.