[Richie splays his hands in clear surrender, grinning broad. He pipes back cheerily.]
Well, shee-yit. If I'd have known I was in the presence of a bonafide celebrity I'd have brought a marker so's you could sign my tits. Alas, poor me...
[Yet he folds his arms on the table, genuinely curious now. She seems nice. Sane. A stranger, which is a kind of comfort in a time like this. He'd rather steer clear of the familiar for now.
He laughs as she babbles, shaking his head.]
Don't fret. I've got exactly zero designs on your grand schemes. I was a DJ. Closest I ever got to reporting was the interviews, and after Ozzy Osbourne I think any drive I had to hit up the New York Times fizzled and died. Call me curious though—what's the theory?
[He cups his chin in his hand, raising his brows.] Illuminate me.
no subject
Well, shee-yit. If I'd have known I was in the presence of a bonafide celebrity I'd have brought a marker so's you could sign my tits. Alas, poor me...
[Yet he folds his arms on the table, genuinely curious now. She seems nice. Sane. A stranger, which is a kind of comfort in a time like this. He'd rather steer clear of the familiar for now.
He laughs as she babbles, shaking his head.]
Don't fret. I've got exactly zero designs on your grand schemes. I was a DJ. Closest I ever got to reporting was the interviews, and after Ozzy Osbourne I think any drive I had to hit up the New York Times fizzled and died. Call me curious though—what's the theory?
[He cups his chin in his hand, raising his brows.] Illuminate me.