The Fugitive had his back turned as the Doctor entered the market, his arrival going unnoticed. However the Fugitive, in taking a step backwards to allow a pair of men carrying a large crate between them to pass him, ended up in the Doctor's path. The collision was small, a bump more than a blow, a brush more than a bump, even, but still. The Fugitive very nearly cursed. He wanted no more attention on himself than he could help. Quickly, he turned towards the man, clearing his throat and removing his cigar from his mouth as he did so.

"I apologise, sir," he said, jerkily inclining his head in the manner etiquette dictated.