AN: A little addendum, because Josephina X just won't stop saying things.
Chloe gives the fabric one last tug, and then steps back to give Oliver's whole outfit a critical look-over. She's not, in general, extremely fashion conscious, but she does know superhero and supervillain costumes backwards and forwards by now.
The clothing is snug, and quite delectably displays all of her husband's muscles, including, she notes as she circles him, his ass. The facial cover is good too, so that no one who isn't as intimately familiar with Oliver's body as she is will be able to recognize him. And most importantly, it's completely black.
"I still don't understand why I have to be the villain," Oliver mutters unhappily.
"Because this was my idea," Chloe retorts.
"Exactly, it was your idea, so you should have to be the villain," he says, and Chloe thinks that if he keeps pouting like that it won't matter anyway, because they won't make it out of the house.
"Look at it this way," she tells him, "do you want me running around in skintight black leather?"
"Yes," Oliver responds immediately, leering a bit at the images she has apparently just evoked.
Chloe sighs and tries to remember a time when she had planned on marrying someone who wasn't completely hopeless. "Let me rephrase that, do you want me running around in skintight black leather where other people can see me?"
Horror dawns. "Absolutely not."
"Good," Chloe replies smugly. "Then you'll be the villain."