There was no need to be rude, Peter thought, his own cane thumping distinctly on the floor as he strayed nearer to her. His knees were bad tonight; he really needed the cane tonight.
From the way she was whipping her own cane around, it suddenly dawned on Peter that this woman was visually impaired, so to speak. He almost hit himself on the forehead, feeling like an idiot.
"Excuse me," Peter began, speaking quietly for the sake of those asleep. His voice still carried confidence in its tone, however. "Could I be of assistance?" It also carried genuine concern and an honest desire to help.