Finch holds up the jacket again and tsk's under his breath. The coat is beyond help… a skin so blemished no amount of makeup will restore it to its former glory. Scratches, scars, nicks, discolorations, cuts, slashes, scrapes, rips, lacerations. If so required, he could probably assign a Number to each mark, complete with the circumstance that resulted in the assault on the leather jacket.

So no, he will not endeavor to have this particular piece of clothing repaired, no matter his employee's attachment to the garment. But now the trick is…getting Mr. Reese to accept a replacement.

He remembers his conversation with the ex-op just hours before…

"So what do you think, Finch? Will the cleaners be able to do anything with it?

Reese stands nearby, gaze glued to his favorite bomber jacket. Finch notes his employee settled for the black motorcycle outfit today, but the thicker leather covering, while ideal for preventing abrasions during a fall, will become a roaster once warmer weather arrives.

"Not sure. It seems to be rather…abused."

"Not my fault, Finch. I can't do this job and worry about keeping up a GQ appearance! And it's not like I have a lot of options."

"I understand, Mr. Reese."

And he did. When he pulled the ex-CIA operative out of the gutter, one of the first items on his list, even before supplying new identities, was to outfit his employee with a new wardrobe. The homeless man had possessed numerous articles of questionable outerwear...but somewhere along the road to perdition had lost, or perhaps deliberately discarded, anything resembling an acceptable outfit that could serve to designate him as a member of the mainstream populace.

Finch had politely but insistently referred all those articles to the trash bin as soon as possible.

Mr. Reese had evidently also mislaid underwear - if he had ever owned any - a condition revealed to Finch to his complete mortification when the ex-agent nonchalantly stripped in front of him to try on the new clothes purchased on Finch's credit.

His mistake, Finch realizes now, was in not giving more definitive directions to Mr. Reese concerning the acquisition of that new wardrobe: the ex-soldier gravitated to shops serving military and uniformed personnel and initially presented the appearance of a hired mercenary. His employee's natural aura as a wolf among sheep on the streets of the city really didn't need to be augmented with the wrong clothing choice…

So he had sent Mr. Reese off this morning, but this time with specific instructions as to which establishments to patronize.

"Well, I suppose you'd better get shopping Mr. Reese. That one jacket is not going to be sufficient and you'll need a decent winter coat for at least another month."

Reese grimaced, and Finch suspected it was more at the prospect of hoofing through stores than the necessity of having to acquire more clothing.

"And not to worry." He hastened to clarify. " I've already ordered and paid for the appropriate garments. You need only to try them on for size…"

"So…now you're going to be dressing me too?" Reese asked with barely veiled disgust.

"Think of it as a business uniform, Mr. Reese. What I've chosen is similar to that which you often wore during your last employment…"

Finch tosses the desecrated jacket aside. Mr. Reese is still somewhat of an enigma…and if he faces the truth head on, he isn't yet completely comfortable with the ex-agent as an employee. He can't forget that his selection had been somewhat rushed by the fact that this potential choice, had been drowning in a sea of alcohol and would soon have fallen off the list altogether.

But now Finch is slightly apprehensive, and not just a little cautious. Not only is he aware the ex-op will be prying persistently into matters he holds very private - the man's covert skills were after all honed by the CIA - but the dossier he assembled outlines an individual quite capable of taking his boss apart if he so chooses. Finch rubs his throat at the memory.

Still, one of Mr. Reese's many CIA skills - one important to their current endeavor - is to blend in, become one of the crowd. So it's interesting the ex-op had originally chosen a wardrobe more military persona than covert operation. With that in mind Finch ordered a wardrobe not exactly a uniform, as mentioned to Reese, but what could more precisely be considered "work clothes".

Wall Street…rather than Army Post or Blackwater.

.

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Two hours later, the opening of the gate signals the arrival of his employee. Reese strides into the chamber and stands expectantly at the entrance. Finch swivels in his chair…and has to consciously keep his jaw from dropping.

Though he'd ordered the garments from the rather exclusive store's internet site, which was of course complete with professionally produced photos, the sight of his employee actually wearing them is…eye opening.

Clad in a suit that fit like its price had promised, a dazzling white shirt contrasting effectively with the dark fabric, and a black overcoat that would do royalty proud, John Reese presents exactly the guise joked about earlier: a GQ model.

With Reese standing there before him, Finch is now a bit dubious the ex-agent can actually blend in with the city crowds. Yes, there are millions of men in suits such as these on the streets, but this…? The quintessential wolf is only amplified by the civility of the clothing!

Reese quirks an eyebrow. "Something wrong, Finch? It's the stuff you ordered."

"Yes…yes, it is. And no, nothing's wrong."

Finch analyses the situation. The image his employee presents unexpectedly suggests the permanent cover he will create for Mr. Reese. Money. Investments...Asset manager. An area of business that requires supreme confidence and a certain amount of ruthlessness. If Mr. Reese can tone down the wolf aura a bit, it will work…

While his mind is busily building an alternate persona for his employee, Reese indicates the two boxes on the desk. "I did add a couple of darker shirts. All you had waiting for me were white dress shirts. I look like a maitre d' …"

"It's fine Mr. Reese." Finch says, smiling tightly. "It's a common city uniform - it'll blend in nicely. You'll just be another man in a suit…"