[It is the day after the ball that Achilles runs into Ramir at last - for while he had kept a keen eye out for her the night before, she had managed to evade his gaze all throughout the festivities. As such, she has lost her chance to see him clad as he was in such dapper array, but she instead has the opportunity to catch him in his gaudy Christmas sweater: across his broad chest and around his arms, rows of snowflakes and reindeer and holly garlands compete for attention amid bright stripes of green and red. Since losing his native garments to the fire that consumed the saloon, he has had to expand his wardrobe. On his feet, however, are still bound his fine leather sandals, and the cuffs of his jeans he has turned up that he may better show them off.

When Ramir snatches him by the arm and beckons him to look upon the plant that sprouts from the wall, his features twist in bemusement.]

For what are you so impatient to know that which you can discern with your own eyes? It seems to me a sprig of leaves and berries hanging there from the wall - it must be another of the mistletoe plants that now flourish throughout this palace.