Hyperion snorted at the expression on Percy's face when he entered the office, carelessly tossing the offending letter into the bin.
"Darling, if you'd cost me a million pounds for a couple of suits I'd fully expect you naked right now," he quipped before poking his tongue out. "I agree though. I'm glad you didn't let the tailor talk you into those jewel toned shirts," he said with a nod. "I imagine wandering around the offices of the Cabinet Office with a shirt that screams 'I'm pink, ken me!' would have been a bit odd, aye?" He looked at the shirt for a moment and then pursed his lips. "How many shirts and ties did you get in the end?"
He waved his hand dismissively, and smiled back. "You're welcome, what's money inherited from extremely questionable and inbred relatives for if not to lavish on people that would've made them faint," he asked with an evil smirk, glancing up at the portrait of one of his banished maternal great-great-aunts who was banished for marrying a Muggle and having twelve children with him. "Plus, of course my taste is excellent, how could it not be?"