If there's one thing Mihai Stroi despises in this world, it's getting involved. He does his best to avoid the little dramas (or the big ones) in other people's lives. He's lived enough heartache and stress on his own. Getting involved means feelings. It means caring, or having to at least pretend to care.
If given the choice, he would have held his hands up, proclaimed she was looking at the wrong man for help.
But there is no choice. He made Maya cry. Her pain in the ass abuela has been harassing him for weeks, and now suddenly getting sincere?
He doesn't want to be involved. He doesn't want to have to care. He looks at the down-turned bed and lets out a ragged sound of frustration. His hands rub over his bleary, tired face. Eventually he steps forward, at the very least relieved to have a bit of much needed quiet around him, and draws himself back into the bed.
"You are seriously overestimating the size of my conscience," he grumbles as he nestles into his pillows again, and closes his eyes to go meet the old woman in La La Land.