There's a muffled thump, a muttered sound of confusion, and then Bahorel slides off the top of a nearby shelf, a stack of books under one arm and an assessing expression on his face as he looks around. "Right, then Crete leads--ah!" He smiles as he notices Fantine, and raises his free hand in greeting, and belatedly shuts up so as not to interrupt her; that's the look of someone in contemplation, and he's used to people going wandering in their own heads.