Matt's awareness is such that he can hear the flutter of fabric being tossed his way, and intercepts the shirts before they can hit him in the face, dropping his cane to clatter on the floor near his feet. He doesn't look annoyed, exactly, but a little heads up would have been appreciated.

Still, he squeezes the fabric between his hands, investigating each one with questing fingers. "Mostly, yeah. I'm a defense attorney, so ties are part of the job." Cotton can range from horribly scratchy to soft enough to tolerate wearing during the day, and finding the right thread count can be tricky at times. They all have that new clothes smell, with traces of other scents from strangers handling them or trying them on, and that's something he knows from experience will fade with time and laundering.

One of the shirts is too rough, and Matt discards it almost immediately. But the other one holds his attention, especially when he feels a raised woven design in thread around the cuffs and collar. "Is this embroidery?"