"Oh, so you are right." The older voice is both polite and strangely calm, "My apologies."

Robin can't focus on the situation at hand yet, busy lingering beside the door and listening for anyone following them. Indeed, there is the sound of some commotion back the way they had come, some distant shouting, approaching footfalls--but it all passes them by moments later, disappearing down another street, and eventually the sounds outside the tent recede back to the normal lull of the market as it was before.

Finally, he lets out a sigh of relief. "Sorry," he says, but he doesn't really mean it.