It really did seem as though they were having more and more amnesiacs washing up on their shores these days, whether it be literally or figuratively. Michael wasn't really sure what the cause of it was, considering he had never had to deal with amnesia, and usually those who did, didn't know what had caused it. However, as long as it seemed as though they weren't violent or some kind of obvious shithead – like someone such as Stryker – then the thief didn't really have a problem with them being let in. He more just felt bad that he didn't know of any way to help them. It wasn't an area that he had any sort of expertise in.

Either way, when Riftweaver came trotting up to the tavern with a new guide in tow, Michael found himself intrigued. The dealer tilted his head to one side, ears perked to listen to what Rift was saying. It soon became obvious that the other was joining – or at the very least staying temporarily – which meant he might as well introduce himself. With a bit of a smirk on his muzzle, the melanistic bobcat got to his paws, gold jewelry glinting in the light as he moved over, "Hey there, new guy. You're one of the bigger newcomers I've seen in a while... my name is Michael Townley-Phillips. I'm a dealer here in The Typhoon, which is one of the assistant deputy type positions. So, if you've got any questions... I suppose I can try helping out." It was debatable whether or not he'd be able to answer every question that Corrupttimelines would have, but he would still offer. Answering questions was part of his job as dealer, after all.