It was a greeting that Pete had got to know and love.
“Clive!” he said, grinning as the man with the smoking gun stepped in front of him. Clive, an avid pigeon shooter, was part of the Civil War Re-enactment Society that had their HQ down the road. Unfortunately, it was also a habit of Clive’s to get drunk whilst he was looking after the building, and so he had often been found wandering the streets in this state: drunk and dressed up.
That was back when Pete’s passion for anything had led him to join the Society. After a while, music became a better passion and Pete promptly left.
“Yesh, it’s old Pete," Clive continued to burble, this time directly at Pete. "I thought I saw you down the road. Mate, I was thinking, I was…how about you and me go somewhere fun for today. Whilst the skies above are not so infested with flying rats, I need to take some time off, and we can catch up over some lunch or a pint or whatever. Where do you want to go?”