It's a stupid idea, or at least the panic tells him that it is. What a way to die. Really, for a stranger to this plane it's a dick move, frankly. Ritchie longs to bob in place to jog his train of thought, but at the first jostle of his heel thanks to the nervous habit he sinks a few inches deeper.

"Alright. Alright.."

He winces as he does his best to accomodate based on the situation. Everything about this is unideal: the temperature, the texture and the looming threat of death. He's not ready for that yet. This was his fall-back to avoid that. Slowing down, he does his best to lower himself into a horizontal position on his back. Now the shit's all in his hair...

Fuck.

"Now what, genius?"