Varin had glanced up when he'd heard the door open, hazel eyes surreptitiously tracking the wizard on his journey toward the counter. He offered a polite, shopkeeper's smile to the man as he took in his appearance.
He didn't recognize him as anyone he'd seen before, which meant little. Older wizards could break their wands as easily as younger ones, and he looked old enough to have purchased his original from Ollivander. Still, there was a vague sort of familiarity to him; perhaps he'd seen a picture of him?
Setting his work in progress aside, Varin dipped his chin in a nod. "Good afternoon. Something I can help you with?" His Bulgarian accent was present though not prominent; he'd been in England long enough to lose most of it save when he was upset or extremely distracted.