Her shrug's met with another shrug, though a belated one that he gives before he heads his way a few more steps into the room, sets down his collection of booze next to Laura's own.

He doesn't know what to expect here, not with their relationship such a tumultuous thing as it's been lately. They'd gotten over some of the initial awkwardness at least, but that was something still in the works, worryingly so, and it meant he had to tread a little lighter, step around conversations a little more carefully than he used to have to. "I ain't stressed," he rebuts weakly as he takes a seat down on the ground next to the booze, cross-legged and tapping his fingers listlessly, in some kind of rhythm against one of his shoes.

Liquor. He's going to need liquor. He heads straight for the bottle of whiskey that she brought on her own, dumps a healthy amount into his own glass and raises it to her, tipping it towards her in a toast. "To classiness, am I right?"