"I am in your way," she repeated. Her eyebrow arched as though it were a question, but her tone was too dry for anyone to think that she expected a response. She turned her head towards the aisle where her child had been standing and swept her eyes across it in an exaggerated fashion, then turned her gaze back towards the main aisle in which she and Watson were standing in, and down which she had approached. The implication she was trying to get across: there aisles were plenty wide for people to pass, and there was no one else in the vicinity, so he hardly lacked for space. It was rather ridiculous for him to imply that she had blocked his way, when by all accounts he had been heading down the mystery aisle instead of the main one she was standing in. It was slightly less absurd to claim her child was in the way, since he was standing in the aisle, but he was so slight she doubted Watson would have any trouble at all nudging by him, if he hadn't had to stop and be dramatic about it first.

"Ah, I am in your way," she repeated, her tone now implying she understood and was agreeing — though it had a patronizing quality to it, the way one would agree with a child's assertion in a game of make-believe. "You couldn't possibly read book titles while I am being so entirely distracting, existing in the same store as you?"

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