Oh how did he know? Not like the deer himself was wound tight like a Victorian socialite who couldn't bare to be in the same room with a man for the tempting risk of some sort of immoral indiscretion.

Following Alastor to the other side of shop, he lets out a long whistle peering over the deer's shoulder. "Wow Al, you do got good taste."

Without a word of explanation he reached over to pick it up to tuck it safely under his arm with the others.