I am flesh and I am bone

It's not even a date. Not really. More that it's an evening out, with Lara. In nice clothes, sure. Mostly though just preparing for things when he attends one of the most prestigious galas on the planet. Diego is not exactly Met gala material, but he's bound and determined to help out a loaded spinster on his old beat who has lost everything to a swindler that is likely wearing the jewels to the Met. So now... practice. That's all it is. Practice for when he has to behave a certain way and be seen as fitting in rather than standing out like a sore thumb as he would now. That's all it is.

Totally not a date.

So he really doesn't spend a lot of time pouring over what little wardrobe he has, which as far as he knows is all black. At least with those things he's looking at, non of those things that he is looking at is tactile gear, and most only have a few spots for weapons. It's actually effort he's putting into this thing that is not a date. He's even taking times, trying on a thing or two, checking to see how they look and what he thinks of them, but he isn't sure any of them would work. Though, eventually, he does figure things out. He thinks.

So when he heads to the foyer to meet Lara later, he may well be dressed in black slacks and an actual button down shirt in charcoal grey - not black - and a leather coat that likely has absolutely no blood stains on it and only a few hidden knives in it. For Diego it is mostly certainly dressing up in ways he rarely does for anyone. That he has a red rose in hand doesn't make it anything more than it already is. Just two friends going out as a practice night before the Met gala.

Totally not a date.

((ooc: open to any of the household prior to the date, and for Lara for not a date night))