InsaneJournal

The Hyuuga had, over time, acquired the ability to dress quite well, and on his assignations he often took this to the next level.  For all that he was formal in mein, he kept his wardrobe simple; a kimono, with hair worn long over his shoulders, or if the night was to start with an excursion to a club (he had been contracted for such, to fill out a party or make a rival jealous) tight-fitting pants and a shirt with the top buttons undone.  His outfit at the debut had set the tone, and certainly with the size of his closet, Neji had no trouble impressing, no matter who he was with or where they were going.

So when he had heard that Itachi had contracted him--Sasuke could not very well keep it secret, and Neji needed to know anyway--Neji had known precisely what to wear.  His outfit was somewhat dressy, in that he would't look out of place if they were going out to an upscale restaurant, but it was casual enough to acknowledge the fact that they were passing familiar with each other.  To be honest he was somewhat upended over this assignation.  He'd thought more of Itachi, but men were men, and Uchihas were all the same, regardless.

So he waited in the lobby of the hotel, managing somehow to lounge without looking sloppy.  His hair was pulled out of his face but fell free down his back in lovely brunet sheets, each strand glistening with care in the light.  A car coat was beside him on the couch.  With an expression of serenity on his face, Neji ignored the murmurings that started whenever someone caught sight of him.  By now, most patrons of the hotel who came from the certain circles of the metropolis that they catered to knew his appearance, and they knew what his presence downstairs meant.

Let them guess, Neji thought.  It couldn't hurt.