He turns like he's ready to fight something only to see another one of these burly mannequins.

"Those things never work out," he mutters knowingly. "C'mon, let's get the fuck outta here. Maybe there's a more generic herd of clothes-horses on another floor."

It's an optimistic assumption but he clearly doesn't understand that it's not this department responsible for this weird cast of lifeless characters, so much as Roxy herself.