He did wear them. And as he strode down the hall, every uncomfortable, awkward and ungainly step in the unfamiliar footwear was as noisy as it was humiliating. “Where are we going?” he timidly asked as he awkwardly followed.

“To reception.” he’s told.

“Reception?!” he gulped. That could be quite busy, he thought, glancing down at his uncomfortably short tunic. Apart from the colour, which he cannot put a name on (it straddles burgundy and purple), the tunic seemed fine until he had to take his trousers off. What felt like a long-line jacket quickly became a dress and a ridiculously short one at that… and having just had all the hair removed from his legs, Luke’s sense of exposure is two-fold. A potentially bustling reception area is the last place he wants to be!

“Yes, reception.” she tells him.“Your job as a porter is to escort the guests and you’ll be escorting them to and from reception.” she bluntly added, punctuating herself with an impatient sigh.