Pete was working on another of his sarcastically written reports for MI:13, an update of the things that had happened in San Francisco and with the flu outbreak lately. He reached over and plonked a finger onto his phone, so it was on speaker and he could keep peck typing.
"...'ello, Wisdom 'ere. You haven't reached the message so I can't tell you to sod off. Lucky, lucky you."
Lucky, indeed! He didn't sound pissed off, merely sarcastic. Which was normal. For him, at least.