Mihai watches her in silence. He isn't the type to give much notice to anyone that passes his desk most of the time, however rudely such a lack of acknowledgement might be taken. If it weren't for the absolute shroud of sadness and frustration chilling the air around Maya as she approaches, he may not have looked up this time, either. Even as she struggles to find words, or to make sense of what she's trying to keep herself from saying, he watches with a neutral expression. Apathetic to a fault, he's never quite sure what he's supposed to say in situations like this. Worse, most of those times he doesn't want to say anything at all. He doesn't want to get involved. He doesn't want to be a sounding board, or a place of comfort. In those moments he lets her stammer, lets her fight her own emotion, and says nothing.
It isn't until she tries to walk away, and the hurt she's trying to dampen down dampens her eyes instead. The way it tightens her throat when that gentle chiding emerges is too familiar for him to ignore.
"Life is unkind, draga mea," he murmurs. It isn't offered with a tone of sympathy, but one of simple fact. A statement of understanding. There isn't any empathy to be found in his lingering gaze, nor pity in the removal of it as he returns to working on the files spread out on the desk before him.