"Alright, Peter," he said and added with a chuckle. "I'll be Pete and you can be Peter." Giving Peter a quick questioning glance he dropped the football and placed his hands in his pockets. "You knew where I was going to stop. I saw you move. People don't see but you sensed it in some way," he said with wide eyed amusement. "So that is a neat trick in my books."
Thinking for a moment he smiled. "If your thinking of building one, I bet there are a bunch of ribcages lying around here of use. I saw that in a cartoon once. Skeletons playing their ribs like a xylophone," he said and turned to look over his shoulder at the football field. "Imagine what the marching band looks like," he said with a wide grin.
"I'm just fucking around, killing time. Keeping occupied." He said and looked over at one of the tombstones glancing at it's inscription and having a chuckle. Here Lies John Yeast, Pardon me for not Rising. Gesturing to the grave marker he smiled. "Deadly sense of humor in this place."