AR muffled the next groan that came to his lips in the pillow. He must have been drunker than he had initially thought the night before, because he would have never agreed to step foot back on any version of Earth if he had been in his right mind. So, in his intoxicated state, he had either not realised where they were heading off to or he had managed to fool himself into being in complete denial about it.
In all honesty, both options sounded very much like him.
He would have gladly kept his face stuffed in the soft fabric, if the sound of knives and glasses being moved around hadn't piqued his interest. Electric blue eyes peeked out of their hideout, taking in the kitchenette that had suddenly appeared in the room. He couldn't help thinking how clever that idea was. Had there been enough space in his shitty apartment, he might have taken inspiration from it.
"C-Can't say I'm an expert, I-I sleep on a fuckin' camp bed, b-but your mattress is nicer than my best friend's. S-So I believe you on that," he commented with an amused snort. "C-Careful not to praise it too much, I-I might decide to steal it when I leave."
He wouldn't have, of course, not after his alternate had been such a good host to him. However, he would have lied if he had claimed that the thought hadn't crossed his mind.
With a huff, the black market dealer flipped onto his back around and pushed himself in a seated position, more carefully than he had done before. The room still spun, but this time it was bearable enough.
"Y-Yeah, most of us are called that. H-Hell, I'm a 'Richard' too, e-even if no one has called me that since back when I was a kid." It wasn't the full truth, since Diane had used his full name on the letter she had left on his hospital bed, together with the divorce papers. "N-Nowadays, I go by my dimension designation or by AR exclusively."
With a shrug, he accepted the hangover cure he was being offered. Then his lips curled into a sly grin, half way between an attempt at being charming and an impish expression that promised only trouble.
"A-Anyway, nice to meet you, Ricardo."
When the other mentioned his past, he tilted his head, a spark of curiosity flashing across his face, but he took a long gulp out of his glass before speaking up again.
"Ha, s-sex work isn't one of my field of interest, s-so I don't know much about it. I-I deal on the black market, I-I get shit for people from outside the Citadel, mostly. An-And I've been living there for about a decade, give or take."
He took another sip of the drink, much smaller than the previous one. His mouth curled into a pensive frown, as he tried to decide whether he liked it or not.
"W-Why did you leave? An-And how did you get your hands on such a sweet place? D-Don't get me wrong, the Citadel is fuckin' Purgatory masqueraded as a pillar of scientific progress." It was why he had landed there in the first place, to spend forever atoning. "M-Most Ricks and Mortys live there 'cause they have no options left, n-not 'cause they like it. B-But that also means tha-that leaving isn't easy either."
Usually no one did unless they permanently died.