Perhaps to Renamon and the grand scheme, telling Mihai that Badou was there really had been nothing. But for a man suffering from the worst case of being at the wrong place at any time, even that knowledge of someone from home helped to ground him. Mihai's acceptance of the warped reality around him would've come with much more difficulty otherwise. It made him think of Reeve, who Mihai sincerely hoped would have similar luck that day. The poor man had been struggling so much the night before for understanding; even Mihai hadn't had things so bad off his first night.

Renamon may have appreciated the joke in her own quiet way, but Mihai couldn't so easily accept her reasons. "Regardless of why, the fact that you're hurt isn't something to take lightly. Eye injuries especially make it difficult to fight. Half your sight is gone, and your perception of distance will be more difficult to adjust to." Mihai had gone through specific training during his days as a professional gun-wielder to compensate for it: shooting with one eye closed, then the other, taking quick aim under fire, judging the right shot based on a reflection. Anything and everything to make sure the Dragonetti's had the most feared assassin in the mafia. And he'd succeeded.

"If you get hurt too badly, it hurts the ones who worry about you too. Just something to think about. Badou doesn't need a twin anyway." Unwanted advice from an old man probably wouldn't sink in, but at least this way Mihai could officially claim that he'd told Renamon so should something worse happen again. He didn't want to, but best to be prepared.

"Decidedly weird." With his part said, Mihai moved on to answer Renamon's question. "I'm pretty good at getting lost, but even my skills don't explain what happened last night. None of the doors led where they were supposed to." A phenomenon that probably hadn't been limited to only himself and Reeve. "I even made it into Doyleton. Twice, I think. How about yours? The obvious aside, of course."