He looked slightly abashed. "Sorry." He'd have to make more noise, he thought. Perhaps rustle a book's pages, or learn to whistle. Walking with heavy, more noticeably audible footfalls felt uncomfortable and unnatural to him.
Errol looked at her questioningly when she said that she had something to tell him, but was, as ever, distracted by the subject of books. "Oh. It's--" He took a look at the cover and held it up. "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch," he said. "I'm not sure what I think of it so far."
The sound of the door opening again caught his attention and he turned his head to the new arrival, another young woman. An unfamiliar young woman, presumably a customer, though customers did not as a whole tend to bring cakes and flowers. "Can I help you?" he asked.