When it came to clothes that's where Booth liked to tip the scale. Rebel against the hard wire regulations the FBI tried to force it's agents into. He didn't believe in conforming to the unit. He believed that they had their own free will. Just because they followed the law that didn't make them uniform thinkers. He didn't want to be categorized with 'that other FBI guy', or Joe slow who worked in accounting. He had flare and charisma all his own and it worked for him. He was highly regarded in his profession even in this world now thanks to Babs' computer hacking as one of the best. He specialized in violent crimes. It was a little more difficult without his squint squad backing him, but he did it for years without them before so he could do it again.
It just took a little more elbow grease and careful deduction. His deep hazel eyes landed on the girl who sat down beside him. The wheels could almost be seen turning in his head. "Jo." More of a statement than a question. Booth was good at people reading even before they said much beyond the first few words. Offering her a lopsided smile he nodded. "Thanks. Nice place."
He was a little uncomfortable, but it had nothing to do with the company. So he hoped after a couple rounds that feeling would go away and he'd actually be a little more coherent.