She turns just suddenly enough that Bellamy has to pull up short, lest he crash into her--which means he starts this conversation already wrong-footed but, really, what else is new.

Oh. "Well-- yeah," he says, his tone somewhere between gruffly irritated and defensive, "I know that. I meant whatever you were whispering about to that shopkeep. And I'm not waiting outside."

Not because of some insulting order, but especially not because-- well. Despite himself, Bellamy glances over at the window again, taking in the slight of the books. It's a risk, giving her the opportunity to start in on him again, but the sight of all of the books is enough to distract him.

"That's what you're into? Dwarf stuff?" He looks back at her, eyebrows raised. "Thought you Orlesians were all about good taste."