[Wade doesn't lose his smirk-- if anything, it grows more eager. The dude might think he's playing the obtuse card well, but alcohol's kind of stunting his performance a little. He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight to one side.]

Lemme put it in terms you can understand then, pally-- go home, you're drunk. And to paraphrase the motto of a very illustrious clan from Staten Island, I ain't nothin' to fuck with.

[But please fuck with him nonetheless. It'll be the best thing that's happened to him all day.]