He stepped into the apartment with the uneasy rush of a dog trying to escape the cold. Hackles raised, even if the source of his petulant tension wasn't obvious.
The 8th floor was fucking dismal, but if Trenton lived through visiting the destitution of the 1st floor, this was a cakewalk. 807 was cozy, at least. Even if it felt orderly and medicinal. "Thanks, doc."
Trenton's slim black tie was knotted loose, so that it looked almost more like a leash than a fashion accessory. The shirt sleeves were cuffed up to the elbows, haphazard but no less pristine. Clothing was intended to accentuate, especially when it cost this much, but there was no way it could improve on him. Even in his carelessness, Trenton was a portrait.