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Jerry laughed, searching for anymore tags to remove before slipping the tie on and concentrated on knotting it properly, "It's cool, I get it. It's the first time we've had like... anything close to a vacation anyway. Enjoy it while you got it!" Aah, the drinks had definitely been a good idea. Still smiling, he gave Jordan a wink and a nudge. "Now the question is, should I stash these old things up in the hotel room or throw them out, ahahaha- oop!" He almost forgot his wallet in his old coat pocket. Room Key and ID were important. He casually stuffed them into his new pocket.

"Hahah you're right," He let the lady pack them into a bag and straightened himself up. Tie straightened, vest buttoned, jacket lapels straight and cane hanging from his wrist, "You know! I've never actually gambled before? Maybe someone will lend me a few quarters for one of the machines! I'll catch you later, don't lose track of time or I will text Rep pictures of feathered ladies." Another wink and a wide grin.

It was amazing what a fresh suit and a few drinks would do for a man. He was standing straighter, and with the help of his cane, he was actually sauntering as he gave Jordan a final salute and made his way back the way they had come. "Have fun you guys see you in a bit!" He called out to Rep and Harrison, and humming, was off.

Hopefully he wouldn't get lost or side tracked, but with a budget of 0 there wasn't really far he could go.

Jordan snorted. "I'd prefer to take my time helping you out of yours," he said, and hooked his arm around Harrison's shoulders. "Come on, let's find you something to get respectable in. And maybe out of at some point."

"I like that plan," Harrison said, slipping his hand in Jordan's back pocket, and letting Jordan steer him towards respectability.

There was a surprising amount of variety as far as slacks went. Rows of shirts. The accessories were elsewhere.

"So what, just a button-up and I can go?" Harrison asked, unhooking a collared shirt with palm trees and a neon cowboy splashed across the front.

Rep liked the cowboy. Cowboys were badass, and that one was being badass in the ******** desert. The palm tree showed it. Or maybe it was an island palm tree. Maybe he was a ******** cowboy pirate. That was even cooler. And then Jordan shot it down. Neon pirate cowboy would not be sailing the sandy ocean it seemed.

"Shirts." he said the word with the same sort of disdain he saved for words like vegetarian. "I don't need to wear a shirt do I?"

"Yes, you do need to wear a shirt," Jordan told Rep. "Tell you what; let me pick out a shirt for you and you can go find a pair of black pants meanwhile. Whatever style you like, as long as there's nothing ripped and it's not out of the athletic section."

Harrison put the cowboy shirt back without argument and submitted to being outfitted with no further struggle. Jordan opened his mouth to say something. Closed it again. Gave Harrison a faintly suspicious look. I'm going to be paying for this concession later, aren't I?

In spades, Ferros snickered.

You're so, so reassuring. "Okay," he said, and went about picking out a not-too-conservative but still respectable outfit that he was absolutely sure Harrison was going to find boring. But the agreement had already been voiced. Dark shirt of some comfortably soft material, grey vest, dark pants, and a pink tie that didn't make him wince. "These the right size?" he asked.