He arrives, as instructed at the small side entrance where he introduces himself to the concierge. “Luke, I’ve been expecting you. This way,” she says. After filling out loads of forms, Luke is given a cellophane parcel. He frowns at the unusual yet familiar color that’s somewhere between bright burgundy and deep purple. It’s the same color that the Marrion Hotel chain use on all their Marrion Hotel signs. “What’s this?” he knowingly asked. “My jacket,” he said, trying not to sneer at the color. Still, it could be worse, he thinks.
“Your tunic.” the concierge tells him.
Tunic, jacket, same thing, Luke thinks before wondering why some people have to be so pedantic. “Shall I put it on now?” he asked.