Wisdom deftly ignored the teasing altogether, refusing to answer the question. The guilt over Shroud's death was still too fresh for him to make light of the issue, even though he mentally scolded himself for not having paved over those lingering feelings already. Anything that could even mildly detract from his cool could become a dangerous weakness at the wrong moment. He knew better than that, and made a mental note to work on it in his own time.
"Me? Neeever guilty," he quipped with his best shit-eating smirk. "Not in any capacity anyone's been able to prove." He gave Jamie a look like butter wouldn't melt on his tongue that was completely out of character with his rumpled clothes and near bedhead.
"Fine. Deny me a drink. See if I care!" he said, scoffing at Jamie and looking offended. That's it, lad. Get those spirits up, get him to chivvy along and let us work, Pete thought to himself, and had the decency to feel a little ashamed at the unkind thought. He slipped an arm around Jamie's shoulders, which he would hopefully allow, and walked him to the door. "What? You're leaving without my good night snog?" he teased, making funny ugly kissy lips at Jamie to try and make him laugh. He then added, in the spirit of their banter of late, "I'd tell you to nap here, luv, but I'd be too tempted to have my wicked way with you. So off you go."