have you felt a little off today?

[measuringdicks]

Who: Richie Tozier and Mike Wheeler!
What: Mike's getting construction materials for a pizza shop. Richie's getting repair materials for the clinic. They meet in the same shop.
When: Sometime in February!
Where: Somewhere in, let's say, Willful Machine.
Content Warnings: Richie’s mouth needs its own warning. possible canon-typical mentions of child endangerment. mentions of major and lasting injuries to minors. blanket Stephen King warnings apply. will update when need be.

[It'd been a while since Richie got mistaken for anyone else. He was generally fairly obvious: lanky kid growing like a weed, dressed in loud clothes meant to grab people's attention, only one ear, a Mimikyu sitting on his shoulder, a hyena loping along beside him? Yeah, he stands out.

But today?]

Whaddaya mean, you reserved a bunch of planks for me? [This is turning out a very confusing interaction, with Richie growing more and more lost as the guy he's trying to trade with keeps bringing up more and more things he doesn't actually remember.] Fuck, man, I've never even been in this shop before, I didn't order all this shit. I don't need that many planks, I just need some paint and rollers. No, really, I mean it—

[He hears the windchimes, then turns. Blinks at the guy who's just come in, a mirror image to Richie himself, but dressed very differently with—is that an iguana on his head? Holy shit, it is an iguana.]

You're still fucking here?

Comments

[micycle]

[The iguana on Mike's head peers down, then waves one extremely slow hand at the hyena. A gesture of peace, and good intention: He's afraid, but it's not your fault. He won't hurt you.]

No, the other kind of British.

[He will, however, make fun of you to your face.]

He's the guy who fixed my leg, when I broke it. He mentioned your place when I told him it was fucked up again, but I'm pretty sure it's beyond "friendly neighborhood clinic".

[measuringdicks]

[The hyena relaxes significantly, just as Venkman very nearly falls off Richie’s shoulder, trying to get a closer look. The head droops to the side, the way a poorly made costume would. Richie huffs out a quiet chuckle, pushes the costume head back into place, and continues on:]

What? Dude, you have got to stop breaking your leg. [But Mike has a point, healing it is far beyond Richie’s ability.]

Definitely not me, unless you need someone to reset your leg, [please don’t ask him to reset your leg] but—there’s a lot of other healers around, and a few got in contact with me when I asked for their help. I can ask them to take a look at your leg. How long’s it been since you broke it?

[micycle]

[With a long-suffering sigh, ] I only broke it once. It just- didn't heal right, or something.

[That tends to happen when someone puts pins in your leg right as the world is falling apart.]

And it happened last May, but then we went home to Indiana for awhile, and my leg was fine there, but when we came back- [Boom. Crooked.] Took my fingers again, too. Total bullshit.

[measuringdicks]

[Hm.]

So if you go back home, it's like you reset, but when you come back the injuries you got here come back too. [That's actually pretty interesting, Richie's thinking now about his own sojourns from one world to another—all his injuries carried over. But when you go back home...

He shivers at the idea.]

Yeah, it's fucked up. So your leg's been fucked like this for, [and he starts counting from May, and whistles quietly,] shit, nine months, counting when you went back home? I don't know what anyone can do for this, short of re-breaking and re-aligning it, and that's...not gonna be painless. And it's definitely way out of my wheelhouse.

[A sigh.] I can still get you in contact with a few people, but—if it's been that long, dunno how much they can help too.

[micycle]

Eighteen, since I broke it. We were home for- awhile.

[He looks down at the offending body part. Through his too-short pants it almost looks okay, but it's easy to see how his ankle tilts a tad to one side, compensating for the crooked legs.]

Thanks, though. How's your, uh- [Mike hunches one shoulder, gesturing it towards his ear. These two are a whole ass mess.]

tw discussion of ear trauma

[measuringdicks]

Oh. [Yeah, definitely beyond helping. Richie winces.] Bad news, it’s fucked. [Unless Mike’s willing to undergo major surgery, which, yeah, no, Richie doesn’t know any Sleeper surgeons.] Maybe add a couple inches to the heel, I guess?

[Least he tried? But now attention’s been drawn to his own injury, and he self-consciously brushes his hair to better hide the hole that used to be his ear.]

‘S’fine. Got fucked up by a lightsaber which was so much less cooler than I thought it would be. [He sighs.] Just…y’know, can’t hear too well on this side now. It’s why I’ve got these guys, they’ve got better ears than me.

[micycle]

[Yeah, so, all the times he and his friends pretended to stab each other with those things as kids really hit different after being in this place - or the old place, he guesses - for awhile. So do any of their games involving swords and blasters and fighting. Why couldn't they have spent their childhood pretending to pet rabbits or bake cookies or something?]

I guess Bastian's got better legs than me- [The iguana, hello there.] -but he hasn't figured out how to help. Too small to ride around on.

[Is that a joke? Is Richie's grouchy, intense doppelgänger joking?]

[measuringdicks]

Holy fuck, you made a joke! [Richie grins at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with delight.] I was starting to think you didn’t even know what a joke was.

[He tips an imaginary hat to Bastian.]

Don’t worry, bud, you’re doing your best. [He does pause a second, then decides: he ought to broach the topic.] Don’t you guys have a horse?

[micycle]

[Mike's cheeks go a touch pink, but his frown is absent of any real anger.]

Okay, first of all? Marshmallow's a kelpie, so get your facts straight. [Even if Will likes to pretend that he's keeping a perfectly normal, non-nightmarish horse in the yard.] And second, I know jokes. You're just the only one around here who's ever in a good enough mood to tell one.

[Yes, Mike's cognizant enough of mental health to know that humor's definitely a coping mechanism for Richie, but part of him still feels weirdly jealous sometimes.]