the anti-disguise of insolence

Pemulis's cover is not to vanish but to be unmissable and unthreatening: maroon paratrooper pants, borrowed fuchsia socks, a bumpkin-billed yachting cap, ensign's braid — "the most insolent ensemble he could throw together," an outfit whose whole message is that its wearer is a harmless clown. "He looked less insolent than just extremely poorly dressed, really," and that is the trick: a boy this ridiculous cannot be casing your office, so the ridiculousness is the concealment. It is hiding-in-plain-sight run in reverse from the veil — not blank anonymity but loud, disarming foolishness worn as armor into a building where he intends to acquire leverage.