At least he had the excuse of being weighed down by his gear and being exhausted by his run over so he didn't even try to put on his usual happy-go-lucky mask in the face of Kira's diminished condition, Pete thought to himself. The man was in peak physical condition, barring the adverse effects of all that smoking. It was kind of required in his line of work. Out of shape spies didn't tend to live very long at all. However, his exertion had been great, and he could already feel the effects of adrenalin waning. He had broken a sweat from the summer heat while jogging over to Kira, and now he knew he was going to pay for it.
Pete did manage a smile that only vaguely resembled a grimace when Kira laughed so weakly, but he schooled his features to hide his concern. When the conversation turned to the collar, he shook his head gently as they walked. "It's ours. Have you met Forge? Uncanny ability. You put any idea for a gadget in his head, and he will spontaneously know how to build it," he said casually while leading his friend around the scattered corpses as if walking a mine field. These were his good shoes. He really didn't need any more rotten zombie on them than they'd already been splattered with.
He didn't miss the blood, and Wisdom clung to that sickly smile even as he ground his teeth. In the short time they'd known each other, Kira had become more than a friend. He almost could consider her something like family at this point. He knew the score, and therefore knew her chances were as grim as the feeling curdling in the pit of his stomach.
"Right," he commented simply. "We need to get you cleaned up, though." He left it up to her to decide and speak up if she wanted to, otherwise he'd simply take her up to her room. That's right, luv. They can't do anything. Fuck