That's right. Wedding clothes are red, for luck and happiness. That's right, happiness.

[ He punctuates that word, in response to Archer's hangdog sigh and head shake, with a final smoothing stroke of his hair. ]

Do you hear that?

[ This time, he isn't speaking to Archer. The mirror is still stuck in his lapels; he'd meant to stuff it under a mattress, but somehow he hadn't. Inexorably his hand has stolen towards the handle of the mirror, and he's drawn it out. He can't quite contain his curiosity, and gazes at the reflection. ]

Luck and happiness! Why are you so dreary?