"I must say, this is a rather bold fashion statement," said Geeves as he fixed Lex's tie, and took a step back to look at his latest piece of work, though its design had been according to Lex's demands.
The suit was a thing of darkness, woven from fabric that seemed to drink in the light around it, leaving an unsettling void in its wake. The blackness of the suit was not merely a color, but an abyss, a yawning chasm that hinted at unspeakable things lurking just beyond the edges of perception.
The shirt beneath was as black as the deepest night, and the tie, a narrow strip of the same, lay against the chest like a serpent coiled in malevolent anticipation. There was a strange, almost eldritch quality to the suit, as though it had been stitched together not by mortal hands, but by forces best left unnamed, its very presence a silent whisper of vengeance and madness.
