The pink haired reflections that step synchronously forward and backward and around Wrench are all clearly Quentin. But every one of them it seems is a little bit different from the others. Some taller. Some stronger. Some hotter. Some hotter. Smaller. Some scrawnier. Some with worse taste in clothes.

"Is that all you're worried about? Getting out of here?" he asks, examining one of the other man's reflections. "It's a house of glass. If we have to blow it up I will."

Meanwhile, do you think it's trying to tell us something? Like everything else on these islands?"