To prepare for the upcoming Charity Gala, Lorne visited an upscale clothing shop.
As soon as he entered, an attendant in a crisp uniform approached him, habitually sweeping a quick gaze over his clothes. A common black trench coat, no top hat-his overall appearance was entirely out of place among the shop's clientele. He clearly did not look wealthy.
"Sir, how may I help you?" The attendant forced a professional smile. His attitude was not rude, but it was hardly enthusiastic.
"I'd like a formal outfit," Lorne said, getting straight to the point.
"Of course. Please follow me." The attendant led him to the ready-made section, gestured toward a row of hanging clothes, and casually took down a suit jacket with a prominent check pattern. "What do you think of this one? Many fashionable young gentlemen favor this style nowadays."
"Isn't it a bit... flashy?" Lorne frowned slightly at the garment.
Formal clothing in this era still mostly favored sober, restrained dark colors. Still, the design of this outfit rather suited his modern tastes.
The attendant smiled. "Sir, this is what's fashionable now. Why not try it on first?"
Lorne took the clothes into the fitting room. Just then, the shop owner emerged from the back room. The attendant briefly reported what had happened, and the owner nodded approvingly, telling him to hurry up and send off this customer who looked unlikely to spend much.
Lorne came out of the fitting room and inspected himself in the mirror. It looked all right.
The owner, however, thought the young man looked familiar, as though... he had seen him in a recent newspaper.
"All right, I'll take this one. I'll wear it out." Fairly satisfied with his reflection, Lorne decided not to bother any further.
"Certainly, sir. That will be seven pounds