Return of the Blind Ninja

[he_put_the_devil_in_me]

Ordering clothes and equipment from the internet is all well and good, but after Matt's entanglement with the FBI several years ago, the idea of completely untraceable gear has been a tempting prospect. Today, he's browsing the shopping district, rubbing fabrics between his fingers to test its properties, in search of something that might deflect bullets or knives.

It's the Nexus, you never know.

Unfortunately, despite his enhanced senses, there is at least one important factor in purchasing clothes that he cannot overcome on his own. Footsteps mark the approach of someone else, and though Matt keeps his white cane tucked close to his feet to be out of the walkway, it's visible enough to be obvious if you know what you're looking at.

"Excuse me, what color is this?"



[ooc: usual disclaimer - Matt is blind but his other senses are enhanced to superhuman extremes. Feel free to add nonvisual sensory details in your tags that might help him get a better idea of who your character is or what they've been doing recently.]

Comments

[ginger_firebird]

"I'm sure you can guess what kind I wear. It has an entirely practical purpose besides hiding old injuries." Plus, it adds to the image of him being just slightly inhuman enough that he can unnerve people even harder before reaching in deep into their thoughts.

"Ohh. I was raised Eastern Orthadox, but I've seen what those Sunday sermons are like. Your stamina must be incomparable." He walks with more deliberate steps than his usual, just shy of stomping as he goes around the racks. "Button down, collar..." His voice trails off as he picks up a couple of shirts. They go sailing gently back towards Matt and land on top of him. "You seem like a tie for work and special occasions type."

[he_put_the_devil_in_me]

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?"