Step 1: Attire

"So...what are we looking for?" Allan asked, leaning on his blood coated bat with his black sunglasses resting over his brown hair as he watched Alfred dig through his closet.

"I'm looking for better cloths!" he answered. "You can't go around in a white t-shirt and ripped blue jeans and that brown jacket with blood all over it, and expect everyone to see you as a hero, or even as a normal guy."

The brunette shrugged. "...What can I say?" he asked as he swung his bat from the floor to his shoulder. "Blood from my more recent victims drip from my bat on my cloths." he answered.

Alfred looked back at him with an arched brow. "...On that note...it would be better if you at least clean your bat and take out those rusty, crocked nails." Though he was a little reluctant, Allan grabbed a hammer and started to pry the nails out of the wood. He was about half way done when his 1p came out of the closet with cloths in his hands. "Here you go~! They should fit just fine, they fit me, and we're practically the same person~!"

Allan sent him a glare. "...Except, I'm the exact opposite as you."

In return, he playfully smirked and tossed the cloths to him. "Just try it on."

The red eyed American looked at the cloths picked out for him as Alfred left the room and closed the door. In his hands was a blue t-shirt with a big red 'S' on the chest and a pair of hole less dark blue jeans. He was also given grey sneakers. With a sigh, he started to take off his jacket and pull his white shirt over his head.

After looking in the mirror, Allan huffed. "It doesn't look right." he stated. "Maybe I should see what Alfred has to say about it. He is my 'teacher' after all." He left the room to see Alfred waiting in the hallway.

The blonde scratched his chin in deep thought, circling his 2p. After several moments, he shook his head. "No." With that one word, he pushed past him and began to dig in his closet once again. "You need a different shirt!... And maybe even a cap!" After he threw more cloths at Allan to change into, he once again left the room and shut the door. Allan looked at the shirt and cap in his hands, a small smile on his lips. In his hands was a white baseball shirt with red trimming. On the back it had an 'A' with a halo. The same icon was on the front of the cap.

As he changed into the new shirt, he remembered that he used to love baseball as a kid. Oliver used to take him to games all the time back when they were close...

"I'm going to get a ball this time!" Allan exclaimed, enthusiasm sparkling in his red eyes.

"If you do, I'll go down there and get it signed by the batter just for you!" Oliver promised as the game went on. "If they refuse to sign, I'll just have to offer a cupcake in exchange~!" he stated, holding up the blue and pink mini cake with unspeakable ingredients inside.

Allan nearly caught every ball that came his way, but every time it was just out of his reach, right at the tip of the mitt. After some time, he slumped in disappointment. "I'm never going to catch a ball." he whined. Just then, as he started to take his mitt off, the palm facing up, a ball flew over the audience, hit Allan on the head, and bounced in the mitt. He stared at the ball in his hand in disbelief and excitement as he waved it in his care taker's face. "Look Oliver! I knew I could catch one!"

...But then, as time passed, Oliver got clingy, and Allan demanded his space from him. After Oliver refused, he moved away from him, and they were never as close again. He still goes to baseball games on occasion, but every game he attends, his mood is dramatically dampened when he finds that he's all alone. The baseball shirt was different. Instead of reminding him of all those games he went two with an empty seat, he was reminded of those fun times when Oliver still mattered to him, and he still mattered to Oliver.

As he pulled on his jacket, Allan headed out to the hall once again with a genuine smile on his face. Alfred circled him again before he took the jacket and pulled it off. "If you're going to wear a jacket, it's gotta be at least a bloodless jacket that doesn't look like it was made by a blind seamstress." The brunette took a deep breath before he relaxed again, letting go of the anger he had at the fact that someone made fun of his jacket. "Other than that, get your bat fixed, and you're good to go!"