When he was in prison it was the garish orange that made the blue in his eyes stand out. It was as if the color was chosen knowing that he would one day be in prison wearing it.

When he was on a heist it was black jeans, leather boots, and a black dress shirt. And a tie. He always wore a tie.

When he was in the office there was always a suit and expensive shoes. And a skinny tie. Always with the tie. And a fedora. Black with a silk ribbon. Gray. The suit was gray.

When he was faking an assassin it was a leather jacket. Black sneakers. Gun in a silver briefcase, deal or no deal style. German chocolate in his pocket. Dark not milk.

When he was working on a project, a painting or a sculptre, it was suit pants and a thin, black belt. No shirt and a glass of wine. Red, a dessert wine.

When he was parting with the rich and famous it was expensive and name brand. A sleek black suit without the jacket. Two buttons undone on the shirt. No tie. Italian leather shoes. A glass of champagne.

When he was sleeping it was gray sweatpants with an elastic waist. No shirt. No shoes. Music in the backgriund. Classical.

When he was swimming, only when Alex was in town, it was nothing. Just the sleek, smoothness of his skin when he was wet. No wire. Just himself.

When he was stealing a car, it was the yellow rain jacket of the valet. Over black suit pants and the simple white shirt.

When he was robbing a bank, it was simple. The class and expense level of an employe. With a linen in the suit pocket.

He loves paintings. He loves sculptres. He loves a good heist. But there is one thing he loves more than anything else.

He's Neal, style is kinda his thing.