"I'll do that," Benjamin promises, pausing as he tries to recall if the other man's apartment number had come up in conversation, and if so what it was. He was of the opinion that it hadn't (and how idiotic was that, to give his apartment number to a man who he'd never met and had no idea if he even lived there), however in the interests of avoiding awkwardness he chooses to pretend otherwise. "As soon as I remember it."
He starts to make a motion indicating the scattered state of his mind at current; the hand happens to be the one holding the filters, and the realization of this enters his brain around the same second Dominic's well-wishes and excuses of work trickle in. Oh, shit. No wonder the guy seemed a bit impatient, he'd been holding the filters hostage.
Benjamin offers up the bits of paper with a sheepish grin that hopefully masks his amusement at the sudden image of conducting a bank robbery using said paper. "Don't forget your filters. It'd be a shame for you to make another trip down the stairs." The existence of the elevators has temporarily escaped him, the young man having never lived in a building that had any. Elevators, to him, are things belonging to hospitals, pit mines, and ludicrously large department stores.