Texture, not pattern. Tony only shrugged, because he wasn't even going to pretend he was all that interested in the topic. There wasn't much to say about something that was nearly thirty years gone now. Dick hadn't even been alive at that time -- well, probably not. There was a chance that he was slightly out of time like so many others seemed to be, after all.
The restaurant wasn't exactly fancy, and Tony was fine with that -- now wasn't the time for little plates so much as food that stained napkins with grease (which, okay, he'd probably regret it and get sick later over all the richness of it but he'd let Steve deal with that). He ordered a drink first (priorities), and a sampler platter later. "So what's with the get-up?"