[Wheatley's gaze sort of follows them out of the room, as if he expects to see something suspicious--suspicious beyond everything else going on. He's certainly not able to sneak his way anywhere, which means he mostly just glares at them when they leave.]

Probably a distraction. Like we're stupid or something, and we're not going to notice how shady all this is.

[Who's stupid! He's not stupid. He knows there's something going on.]

You can have mine, at any rate. [The drink. The crostini.] I can't exactly do anything with it.