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Avalon Hotel, Brixton, London SW9
Ari materialized in the same wardrobe, but six days in the future. He’d booked the room at the small down-market Brixton hotel for just a couple of hours. The receptionist hadn’t been surprised at the short-term booking – most of the hotel’s business was as a place for quick sexual encounters – but she’d been surprised that Ari was alone. Still, it wasn’t for her to question what anybody got up to in their rooms. The Victorian-looking chap’s money was as good as anyone else’s.
Ari clambered out of the wardrobe, straightened up to his full height of five foot ten inches, popped his top hat back open, and placed it on his head. He didn’t feel fully dressed without it.
Locking the door behind him, he trotted downstairs and tipped his hat to the receptionist as he left the building and headed home.