"You are lucky the flood damage righted itself. We would have lost the home brewery," Doc quips. He is too concerned about Raylan to take his eyes off the Marshal completely - he really shouldn't be walking around in his current condition - but he doesn't want to come off too--... caring? overbearing so in the end he tears his gaze off of Raylan and goes back to studying his reflection in the mirror.

"That's what the moustache is for," Doc drawls, running his fingertips over the mirror pane before knocking on it a few times as though it is a door. He is self-confident enough that a few wrinkles don't bother him none.

"I have been here before," he explains. "There was a spectre dwelling in this mirror last time. You'd look over your shoulder thinking you might catch a glimpse of him standing behind you, but there would be no one there. Then when you turn around again he's moved even closer towards you. It was... unsettling, to say the least." It didn't help that he seems to be the strong, silent type. Any attempts Doc made at communicating to him fell on deaf ears also.

"Ain't nothin' anyone could do to make him talk or go away. Course, it appears as if he is no longer there."