[ Michel isn't a stranger to violence, even — particularly — from someone much smaller than him. He startles back, his expression going oddly shuttered. Checking his interface settings yet again, possibly. He's made no secret of the fact that he usually leaves his pain sensors off. ]

They're all spreadsheets. If you expect me to have the names memorized, you're mistaken. I have no interest in your business transactions, except what it might have meant for where you vanished to.

[ The silver lining of the plague, if Mithrun has been tracking the effects at all: be can count on the truth of those words. The icy annoyance lacing Michel's voice, too, is perfectly sincere. ]