"No foreigner records," Costigan agreed. He wasn't about to offer his connections to help them though. Even if he wasn't exactly playing the role of a criminal as of late, the undercover was never particularly keen on the idea of revealing his affiliations. If Evandau's plan of his being on a council came to fruition, he could deal with it then. For now, he was another random foreigner.

He nodded with the man's decision not to announce the event publicly. Although easier, he worried about the mistrust it might breed. Hannibal was bad enough. Costigan would warn Evandau and leave it at that. People didn't need to start turning on each other because a few assholes couldn't keep their grudges - or whatever the hell it was - to themselves.

Costigan's brow furrowed with the reveal of the wound. He seemed to recall Bakura mentioning drowning. The wound he hadn't even connected as exactly relevant, or the fact that it had remained even after the man's return, until he saw the wound before him. "What the hell happened to you?"

He knew it was the same attack. That much was obvious. The question was what had caused the injuries and, to a lesser extent, remained a question of why Bakura had provoked the attack. But that was something only the man in black armor could answer.