A sleek black SUV parked outside Johan Cruyff Arena, and the door swung open. Music played from inside as a tall man jumped out.
His brown eyes scanned the surroundings before he slammed the door and made his way into the stadium.
He wore short checkered trousers and a plain brown shirt.
At the entrance sat the gatekeeper, an old man enjoying the morning sun while sipping his black tea. "This flavor never gets old!" he whispered, smacking his lips appreciatively.
As he saw the man approaching, he set his cup on the ground and welcomed him, saying, "Welcome, Sir Jordan. You're late today!"
'This old man never gets it right. The name is Morgan, not Jordan or whatever he said the other day,' he groaned inwardly, his hand grazing his dark hair but replied calmly, "Yeah, I was caught up with some work."
