[Whatever strange force was tugging on Prior puts some slack in the pull. He's off edge now, and Richie joins him, arms ceasing their queasy swing. Instead he clambers onto the couch next to the turntable. He hasn't forgotten it, nor his missive (there's still plenty of daylight left, and now he's all curioused up. Can't leave with that bee still buzzing in his bonnet.]

See things? Like what? Visions? The past? [He wrinkles his nose.] That's a bogus one if I ever heard of it. Getting dinged by bricks doesn't sound like fun. At least I didn't ralph this time. But that—

[—might have been the smoke. It also might not be something to talk about with a sort-of-stranger, who was definitely too old to get it. He stops up short.

Then pulls a saccharine smile and puts his chin in his hands. Golly gee, what a sweetie pie.]

Anyway! You know your way around, right big guy? Where's the best place to shoot cans in this here watering hole?