"What do you think?"
"I think…" Maya appeared to be choosing her words carefully. "I think you look ridiculous," she finally managed. Sam sighed dejectedly; so much for "carefully."
"Come on," he pleaded. "It can't look that bad." Straightening the collar of his leather jacket self-consciously, he thought back to the amount of time he'd spent scouring secondhand shops over the last two weeks, until he'd found exactly what he was looking for. This had all, of course, been done in secret, because the idea of explaining why he needed these clothes was absurd.
"Why are you asking me this again?" Maya was focusing on his reflection in the full-length mirror instead of looking directly at him. Sam knew it wasn't the clothes she was referring to, but did his best to play along.
"I needed some new clothes," he shrugged. "Ever since I woke up, none of my stuff's been fitting." That wasn't entirely true; his neat suits and ties fit the way they were supposed to, but Sam couldn't shake the inherent wrongness that had been present ever since he got dressed in his hospital room, how his collar felt too tight and his trousers too loose. Now, looking at his reflection, he was impressed at how closely he'd managed to find what he was looking for, down to the medallion resting in the hollow of his neck.
"And you settled on… that?" She asked, skepticism evident on her face.
"I think it looks good," he asserted, smoothing the collar of his shirt.
"And I think you'll get laughed out of the department if you show up like that," she replied, "but really, Sam, I'm not the one you should be asking." She stood to go, glancing at him sadly as she passed; he didn't stop her.
Releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding, Sam looked himself up and down in the mirror again. Maya was right, he knew, but he still couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was more than his clothes that didn't fit anymore.