Cyril was generally slightly oblivious to the rest of the world. Not completely gone, mind, but not paying the world full attention unless required. The slightly spastic reaction of his new customer, on the other hand, required closer inspection. Pushing aside the traps on the counter, and remembering to not get near the trigger of the trap built into the wood, he braced his hands and levered himself onto the balls of his feet to be able to see better.
Making a snap conclusion, based only on what he had seen so far, Cyril decided that the man had not been expecting a dwarf to own the shop. It was not an unusual reaction, but frequency did not make it more palatable. "Hmph," He grunted disapprovingly before settling back on his heels, "What do you need?"
Rather than some merchants that tripped over themselves in their eagerness to make a sale, Cyril's approach tended to be much more begrudging. It was not always, but most of them time. He attributed it to the fact that he was a warrior for most of his life before becoming a smith of sorts and finally a merchant by chance.
It did not make him a good merchant, but people seemed willing to overlook his moods in exchange for his goods. It appeased his ego immensely, so it was not hard for returning customers to get into his good graces in no time at all.