Mace still had his army uniform, a uniform several sizes too small and from ten years ago. That camo uniform that had his real last name on a patch, it was still clean and pristine.

You found that old thing hung up in the back of his closet, left to be forgotten, either on purpose or because Mace genuinely didn't remember it being back there.

"I thought I left that at my moms," he looked over the uniform. So it was a pure accident. He could see your eyes go back and forth between him and the uniform, he knew what you were silently asking. "It's gonna rip, but alright."

After nearly ten minutes, he came out with the pants only reaching the middle of his thigh, the button up struggling over his biceps, if the cloth were human it'd be screaming from being stretched so much. The shirt under was hugging his flesh, a tight bear hug that stretched over every tribal bump on his chest.

"I look like I work for Magic fucking Mike," he wasn't too far off with that comparison. He grew intense muscles the past ten years and now it was very noticeable.