A chuckle catches him and he coughs it out with a roll his eyes, a dimple deep in each cheek.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt." It's cheeky but light. He's not trying to urge her that way by any means. At this point, he's confident something like that will not push him in the most positive of directions. That's not to say part of him doesn't want to yank her up and toss her down in the grass, losing himself deep in the welcoming warmth of her and scent of wildflowers.

A part that's growing more pressing even as he's trying to banish the thought away. Sweeney swallows and takes the last puff of his cigarette before flicking the embers off away from them. He grips the neck of the bottle, but doesn't lift it.

"Yer inmate best keep hydrated."