Richie can see where this is going, and he relinquishes one of the large squares of fabric without a word. If he doesn't need is, Kate can certainly use it. It's no skin off his nose...literally in this case. He takes his gun back, extra clip sliding back into the makeshift waistband, but the weapon itself stays out, and he's actually slightly more comfortable with a gun in his hand and not burning up the moment sun hits his skin.

As his brother's hand connects lightly with his cheek twice, he looks almost surprised by the gesture, his shoulders briefly tensing before they relax, and the whole thing sets him slightly at ease, some of the anger generated earlier fading into the background.

When shit got real, they tended to let the drama fall to the wayside, if only for a little while.

But then Seth turns away to focus on Kate, and Richie's eyes watch his brother like a hawk, analyzing that look on his face, the way he pauses and swallows, and he's not sure it's just about the fact that Kate's apparently not just a corpse after all. Either that, or his brain has concocted one hell of a mindfuck, and he doesn't want to know the implications of that.

"All we've gotta do is move our feet and stop staring at each other."

And with that, he's just gonna move past them and keep walking if they don't start shuffling their feet first. He's got too many things on his mind to focus on just one for any length of time, and it's clear by the distant look in his eye as he passes that it's getting to him.