[And Molly's laughter increases tenfold, no longer muffled as he falls backwards onto the floor in a pile of giggling multicolored tiefling. The magic missile to the mirror really did him in and when he finally pulls himself back up, he's thumbing tears out of the corner of his eye.]

Congratulations, you two. You killed a mirror. I'd say that's seven years of bad luck for you both, I bet it either cancels itself out or gives you seven years of good luck instead. [He breaks off snickering again.] And thank you both for being good sports about this. You're lovely, terrible people. Don't listen to anything a trashy piece of furniture tells you.