Moist looked through the closet, it was so nice to have all of his suits here. Though even in Milliways, these weren't all of his suits, all of his identities, they were just some of the furniture that helped him become someone else. He ran his hand over them-serge, tweed, fine linen, he didn't get to wear that one a lot, all ready and waiting.

To a stranger, it would like he simply had a rather nice wardrobe but he knew how to make each suit be at least three different people if not more. And each one for a little while was him and not quite him, it didn't matter that much in the end. What counted was getting done what he wished, a clear road and a fast horse. Milliways was just a longer place for stopping on the road.