With some frustration, Nelson swatted (very gently, and carefully) Hooded Justice's arm, beseeching he "At least tell me what color. What about black? Or red? Maybe grey, that much red might be too garish on you..."

When he turned back to Gil his eyes rolled a little in conspiratorial exasperation, as if to communicate to Gil that even Nelson understood how much of a pain Hooded Justice's stoicness could be. Communicating in a way that Hooded Justice couldn't see, that was. Then his eyebrows furrowed, taking in what Gil just said to him.

"You didn't? But then--" He looked a little troubled and bit his lower lip. "You didn't? Are you sure? Your name was-- but it's too late to change it now," he said, with some distress. Oh, no. Less than a week until the auction and here was a problem on top of everything else. He touched his hands to his cheeks, though tried very hard not to lose composure in front of Gil. Hooded Justice, at least, knew how to handle that. "I don't think there's anything I can do."

Nelson looked at him, still frowning and half muttering to himself. "At least let me buy you your suit. Maybe... no, I'm not sure..."