"Just a simple blank shirt is fine enough." Bezukhov replied, hanging his jacket on the back of a nearby chair. He stripped himself of his shirt, his pants being the only thing covering him. Grabbing a gray shirt with a small, unnoticeable logo on it and slipped into it. Chuckling to himself, he spoke; "Heh, perfect fit." Bezkuhov grinned and shut the wardrobs doors, tossing his shirt in a basket afterwards.