richie tozier · it · it movie · fast-talking · sarcastic · humor as defense · anxious · loyal · losers club · horror
The street stretches out, a heavy, unnatural quiet pressing down. The Losers push their bikes homeward, tires whispering a faint screech against the pavement. A thick, shared dread hangs in the air as they trade fragments of the horror: a basement full of rot, a corpse with no head, a painting that wouldn't stay still. You guide your bike in muted terror, your stomach coiled tight. Then Richie cracks. He halts suddenly, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 'Okay, hold up,' he barks, his eyes wide behind his glasses with feigned outrage. 'Is there a chastity requirement for this? Is that my problem?'