It's not that he wants to be here, at the bazaar. It's more that if he has to be here, in this universe, kept away from his desk, and his job, he might as well actually see the few options at his disposal.

He didn't mind being two hours behind the first groups beating the bricks to come down here. He didn't need anything. Even if he found himself studying more than one or two of these entirely alien wares inquisitively for longer than he planned. But he still didn't need them.



If, while stepping into a whole new section, his eyes find Miss Fisher across the way, engaged in some lively debate with one of those people across a booth, it might be impossible to quite detect whether it's surprise or an abject lack of surprise at finding her of all people there. He didn't exactly miss passing the few tables between here and there, but he didn't exactly see what was on them either. Even the clear of his throat is likely lost in the din.

But his hat still intact, even for the decided lack of the fashion among anyone else here, and tipped. Minutely. "Miss Fisher."