Which seems to indicate that Phil as no particular fantasies or desires about Clint in a corset, so, he won't be asking about that. Not that he'd do so now anyway, not with the woman of the hour wrangling all kinds of fabrics with ease instead of looking bogged down by any of it.

"Here it comes, my hardest assignment," he jokes before stepping over to the table of Things To Potentially Put On His Body (For Fun And Profit).

Leah clicks her tongue. "Don't worry, I've seen plenty of people come in that don't know their bolas from their bowties. I'll make you look like a star."

"Yeah," he says a little absently, running fingers along a bolt of steely grey, "I was afraid of that. Not really built for a spotlight."

Built for Phil's spotlight, though. The intensity of his attention. Like nothing else in the world matters. He feels it all out, a few a little stiff for his liking, some light and fluid, touches cute paisley patterning and subtle pinstripe and black and dark grey stormy grey highlight purple dark and brooding purple. He doesn't really know what he's looking for, style-wise, but as far as weights go he indicates a few bolts that feel like he'll be able to move in them without too much restriction should the need call for it.

It might be not the greatest sign that he wants something nice and fancy like this to be combat ready.

"Jacket and pants and a vest are only part of an outfit, though. Gotta think about shirt and tie to go with. Maybe simple matching colors, let the vest stand out? Or match the tie to the vest?"

Leah hums. "And pocket square."

"...Is a pocket square necessary? It's just like...a handkerchief, right?"

"Phillip, dear, he keeps showing so much potential and then his mouth keeps going and ruins the illusion."