He's rather loathe to look through them now -- now that all he can think of them is that they're what he'll wear when he's forced to give up the uniform -- but if wearing the serge to the wedding is the lesser of two evils, so is throwing Caitlin a bone now rather than pick apart the reason he doesn't want to. He rifles through them quickly, taking them in with as brief a glance as possible.

"The, um, the brushed wool in the dark gray is... nice. As is the mahogany three-piece." And then he'll hang them up, along with the rest, in rapid order. But when he gets to the sequins, he does pause, and manages to deadpan: "And this one, of course."