The soft rap of his knuckles against the doorframe signaled his arrival, the fresh, earthy scent of the tea having caught his attention from the Midway. His face was turned toward her, even if his eyes settled unseeingly on the floor by her feet; he could tell where she stood by the way her footsteps reverberated against the floor.
"Hey," he greeted with his usual aloofness, an unlit cigarette bobbing from between his lips with each syllable. "Smells pretty good in here." He took a few steps into the shop and shoved his hands into his pockets, finally reaching up to move his cigarette from his mouth to behind his ear. He did not move with the halting caution of a blind person, but rather with leisurely confidence. "You busy? Just wanted to stop by and uh... see how you were holdin' up. Your garden's pretty happy." The plants had told him so.