The smoke was fragrant, probably a lot more for him than almost anyone else in the club. It was deep and layered and interesting, and he pulled in a deep breath, holding it along with some of the smoke. As a rule he didn't use drugs, or smoke, but sometimes . . . Sometimes he just didn't care. His eyes went to half-mast when Henry kissed him, and while he didn't really kiss back, he made no move to push the man away. He was still deciding what he wanted, trying to move past the anger.

His eyes closed fully and he leaned into Henry's hands. A little more tension left him and some of that burning rage as well. It really was so irrational! And that made him angry too, that he had such a ridiculous issue he couldn't move past. But the smoke and the hands in his hair were doing an excellent job of pushing all that away. He mumbled with an amused smirk as he let Henry's hands soothe him.

"Why do you call me Steven?"