Maybe he needed to hear that she still loved him as much as he wanted to make sure that she knew the same. So Cal made sure to tell her, reaching over to cover her hand with his cigarette-free on, giving it a light squeeze, “I still love you too, Jun.” He’d never wanted to make her feel like shit, never set out to hurt her and that alone spoke to how much he had (and still did) care for her; Callum had always been the type who wanted his revenge, wanted to inflict that same pain on someone else that they’d put onto him. With Juniper, those thoughts had never entered his head, not even when he was at his most furious. That wasn’t to say that they never would, that his anger had totally cooled, but he hadn’t lost any of that affection for her. It had just been severely damaged and he needed some time to fucking figure everything out. She leaned in to kiss him and he was sure he tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, maybe something just Callum. “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, voice a bit husky from more than his vices for the night, choked a bit with emotion – that liplock had certainly tasted like good-bye, “you too. And dance your fucking arse off.” He slid off of his stool so that he could help her ease off of her own, handing her her drink from the bar before he settled back down to watch her weave her way back through the crowd to the table where the rest of her party for the night waited. Cal sighed heavily, shoulders hunching a bit as he leaned forward and downed the rest of his second whiskey, gesturing for a refill. When you felt like absolute shit, what was better than a smooth drink and a good smoke? Cause fuck, did his life royally suck anymore.