Benjamin had said forty-five minutes and he meant it, goddamnit! The result was an apartment that looked like an absolute disaster zone. Clothes that had just been unpacked were thrown on the furniture, clothes that hadn't been were on the floor, and the owner of all was about to scream--and then he caught, out of the corner of his eye, a hint of red lace.
The next few moments saw Benjamin channeling his inner groundhog as he literally dove into the pile of clothes and came up holding a pair of black jean shorts, the legs of which had red lace remnants sewn on the inside, giving the effect of undergarments playing peek-a-boo. Ben's smile nearly split his face.
When the young man sauntered out into the lobby, he was only recognizable as such to the observant and knowledgeable. The shorts he was wearing, only a slice of black and red showing under the hem of the semi-sheer halter that almost perfectly matched the lace in color. Invisible under the top was an ivory strapless tank, worn for 'modesty's sake.' The wedge sandals were a vibrant metallic gold that shone as brightly as the gold and bronze jewelery he'd mixed to finish the outfit (bronze to match the button and zipper on the shorts.)
He'd managed to calm the monster his hair had become into actual waves that looked as soft as they felt. The make-up was standard enough; a smokey eye look {mostly browns and copper with a hint of black near the lash that had come out looking vaguely Egyptian) that made his blue eyes look like they might shine under a black light. His lips and nails both gleamed, the former with gloss and the latter with clear polish, and Benjamin felt like a king.
A king with plenty of funds, or so a quick glance inside the black clutch he carried revealed. He fully intended to come back still in possession of the majority of said bills; not that he was planning to mooch off of his fellow apartment dwellers! That would be unspeakably rude. But if someone at the club should just so happen to be taken enough with him to offer a drink on them, who was he to refuse?
"Am I late," he asked as he exited the lobby and strode toward the cab and the couple waiting by it. Despite the confidence in his posture, Benjamin does feel a pang of worry that he's made them wait, and ergo cost them money. If that be the case, he'll make up the difference himself.