Well, Artie certainly has better things to do than swap fashion tips.

The unlocked door swings open with a grooooan of rusted metal-on-metal and a fresh swirl of dust from above. Artie fumbles for the light switch, and an amber glow bathes the room, illuminating metal shelves stacked to the ceiling with numbered file boxes.

"The files on all Warehouse agents for the last two hundred years, give or take," he says. "And missing agents, too, somewhere..."