There's just enough time for something hopeful to start rising out of the touch before Michinaga's hand suddenly snaps out to grab her wrist and break the contact. It's not a hard grip, but it is firm enough to hold her in place if she doesn't fight it. Michinaga has never been great about casual touch to begin with, and spending the last while involved in what were essentially endless death games hasn't done much for that but improve his reflexes.

At least his expression when he turns to look at her is decidedly unimpressed, but without any real suspicion. Or at least no more than he has for anyone else in the building at the moment.

"You need something?" He's not great with the local language yet, but he can manage a few things here and there.