While he wasn't dressed quite as lavishly as some of the people at this party, Kevin DID have a very nice suit and tie on - something that was decidedly tailored for him, sleek and black (but not as black as his eyes, nothing that drank in the light quite so much) and sporting a little pin on the lapel. The pin was a little triangular yellow emblem with a letter S in the center...and it was remarkably shiny, as if he polished it often.

All of this, however, was at odds with two little details. One was that that black suit, so nicely tailored, was stained darker from the knees and elbows outward. The other was that, with this beautiful suit, he was wearing a pair of deep, dark crimson tennis shoes.

They don't look like they've always been red.

At the compliment, Kevin acted pleasantly bashful, jagged grin broadening impossibly wide on his face. "Oh, why, thank you! You have a beautiful pair, yourself. Mine aren't so terribly special."

But they're so peculiar, aren't they? Perfectly uniform in their lack of light, almost like tiny windows into some deeper void.