He already felt like he had waited too long for someone to answer him. The reaction that came when she finally came did not help his mood. Unlike she had the day she had visited his apartment, Michel was not going to sit and wait patiently for a time when it was alright for him to enter. Looking as offended as ever at how she had slammed a door in the Louvre and in his face, he pushed it open himself and let himself into the room.
Looking down at her for only a moment as he went in, he straightened his coat. He was about open his mouth to say something immediately spiteful, but he managed to keep himself from saying anything. At least he was making a small effort to not ruin everything from the start. It wouldn't have even been any fun that way.
"I've come to paint," he explained simply. It was just as much a reserved room for him as it was for her. Greetings had never been his forte.