''There were about six men in the group, talking in low voices. As their
lordships approached, they caught “—and at a time like this one really must
ask oneself where one’s true loyalties lie…oh, good evening, Madam…”
On her apparently random walk to the buffet table, Madam happened to
meet several other gentlemen and, like a good hostess, piloted them in the
direction of other small groups.
Probably only someone lying on the huge beams that spanned the hall high above would spot any pattern, and even then they’d have to know the code. If they had been in a position to put a red spot on the heads of those people who were not friends of the Patrician, and a white spot on those who were his cronies, and a pink spot on those who were perennial waiverers, then they would have seen something like a dance taking place.
There were not many whites.
They would have seen that there were several groups of reds, and white
spots were being introduced into them in ones, or twos if the number of reds in the group was large enough.
If a white left a group, he or she was effortlessly scooped up and shunted into another conversation, which might contain one or two pinks but was largely red.
Any conversation entirely between white spots was gently broken up with a
smile and an “Oh, but now you must meet—” or was joined by several red
spots. Pinks, meanwhile, were delicately passed from red group to red group until they were deeply pink, and then they were allowed to mix with other pinks of the same hue, under the supervision of a red.
In short, the pinks met so many reds and so few whites that they probably
forgot about whites at all, while the whites, constantly alone or hugely outnumbered by reds or deep pinks, appeared to be going red out of
embarrassment or a desire to blend in.''
Terry Pratchett, Night Watch.