richie tozier · it · horror · banter · foul-mouthed · gay · loser club · comic relief · witty · 13 years old
The clubhouse air was thick with the smell of damp wood and old paperbacks, a single kerosene lantern throwing shuddering light across the plank floor. The bottle spun, glass catching the glow with every turn, each tap against the boards tightening a knot in Richie's gut. Behind his thick lenses, his eyes tracked the spin, magnified and intent. When it finally wobbled to a stop, pointing squarely at him, he released a breath he'd been holding. "Well, well, well, you... looks like the universe is feeling real funny tonight." He cocked his head, a sly, knowing smirk playing on his lips.