Passing her the first beer he'd grabbed, he ducks back to the fridge to get a second for himself. This he opens quickly, taking a sip for lack of anything else to do. Mentally, he runs a checklist. He brought a gift, check. He offered to help, check. He accepted a drink, check. Now what? Small talk?

Nancy interrupts his train of thought with her gesturing hand. Blinking, he stares at it in dumb confusion for a moment and then balks.

"Oh. Oh, nah. I don't really, uh, I don't smoke. Not that there's anything wrong with it. Well, besides everything that is medically proven to be wrong with it. It's just not something I ever got into." You're rambling, Stiles. "But I don't mind if you do!"