Despite the general unease twisting his guts, Benjamin manages a wan smile. The look of puzzlement on the other man's face, slight though it is, is an expression he's quite familiar with. He can't place Benjamin neatly into the gender binary, and it looks to be unnerving him.
"Benjamin," he answers as he pushes some of his hair, beginning to curl in the humidity and the heat of exertion, away from his face where the shorter strands had tried to stick to his forehead. Hopefully the guy won't try to start something; Benjamin could probably hold his own for a while, but he's in really no condition.
The concern for his well-being makes him think it might not be a problem, that it be more likely there will be awkwardness between them. "I'll be alright. Planes knock me for a loop." In other words: I'm not contagious, I don't have the plague, my coffee filters are safe.