Miguel looked clearly puzzled at the man's attempt at Spanish. Who? And, when he called him Manuel, Miguel began to wonder if the crazy man wasn't mistaking him for someone else.
He was crazy, after all.
"No, no," Miguel corrected, reaching out to grasp the crazy man's wrist, mostly to keep him from batting Miguel in the nose with the cash. "Me llamo Miguel." He released the man's wrist, careful not to touch the money, and tapped himself on the chest. "My name Miguel." Even that simple phrase was slow and awkward-sounding.
As for the tip? Miguel, in fact, did not know the word tip. "No dinero," he told the crazy man, thinking the man was trying to pay him for the service. Another person might have taken the money and run, but not Miguel. "I work. No dinero." Already, he was exhausting his limited English. How could he explain to the man that housekeeping came with the room?