Somehow he recognized him, maybe just because who he was matched what he looked like exactly. He saw him and immediately thought, 'yes, there's Richie'. "Hello!" he greeted, upbeat and energetic and very, incredibly British. He matched that handwave and added a tip of his lager.
"Buy you a drink?" he offered, funny because they were free, and gave a white-toothed smile that didn't look zombie-ish at all. No brains, no blood. Just a fairly normal looking British Indian fellow in a striped shirt and a lab coat.
He just liked wearing the lab coat. It was comfortable, it felt like a bit of his identity to cling to when he was adrift in this odd, odd place.