It wasn't much of a smile, no. The sickly twist of his lips matched the pallor of his skin, and as much as Peggy wanted to be sympathetic, there was a little niggling voice that warned she ought to be cautious in leaping right to concern. She'd gone right for worry last night and all it had gotten her was propositioned, which was still nothing she'd seen coming from Steve. This seemed much more like him between the embarrassed blush and the way he was stumbling over his words.
Leaned against the door, not quite yet ready to invite him inside, Peggy listened. Fortunate that she was good at divorcing emotion from her ability to parse information. "Well," Peggy murmured, a thoughtful little wrinkle appearing between her brows, "That does explain the copious amount of vomiting I witnessed last night." Drugging guests at a party was in poor taste, but that kind of fit with the whole atmosphere the hotel seemed to be cultivating.
Not a generous thought, and not at all useful in the face of earnest apology and a handmade bouquet.
Peggy straightened, and after a brief moment of consideration, reached to relieve him of the flowers. "Come in," she allowed, because whether or not she'd decided to leap right to forgiveness, this wasn't the kind of conversation to be had in the hall. It helped that he wasn't staring at her mouth, though. That did go a distance to convincing her it might be safe to give him access to the room.