It's jarring to have someone physically invade his space (having claimed a majority of the table). Ritchie turns his head only slightly, gazing out of his peripherals like a frightened animal. Logically he knows what could have drawn the man over here: disruption, unease and the simple desire for peace.

"I'm sorry," even his effort to placate remains disingenuous. Raising a hand, he reaches over to grab the book that is coincidentally the farthest from him and the closest to the stranger. Perhaps he's fishing for a reaction-- perhaps he's just really in need of that particular book. Hard to say.

"You can go now."