***
Slamming his fist against the steering wheel as he drove, Bennett caught his image in the mirror, frowning. “I look like a fool,” he muttered, turning up his music as loud as his ears could tolerate. “Those idiots talk to me as though I have changed everything about myself. I haven’t changed that much. I’m still the same Bennett. Why do they want me to feel like an idiot for wanting to look nice once in a while? I just wish I could talk to someone about this…maybe Donnie, but he’s appearing to show the same intellectual aptitude as Clark at the moment.” He pulled out his phone. “I know,” he said, dialing the number and waiting for a voice to answer. “Yes,” he said, relieved. “Do you mind if I come over to talk to you for a bit? I could use some advice.”