There had been a time when Michael could be accused of being dramatic, possibly even theatrical. He'd had a passion for showing divine force, especially when it came to humanity, often living up to the wrathful nature much of humanity ascribed to his Father. Setting off natural disasters had started as an obligation, certain things needed to happen in order for his Father's plan for the end of the world to come together, but by the end, they'd become something of a release for him. Even on the smaller scale, there was hardly anything more satisfying than 'burning out' those that deserved it and leaving enough behind to cause humanity to scratch their collective heads and call it spontaneous human combustion, rather than the judgment of heaven.
Michael seemed to have lost that flare for the dramatic now, he'd left it behind when he left the Cage even as he had wrapped himself up in his still-strong desire to hand down divine punishment. Punishment that should have driven him to obliterate both Crowley and this anti-christ as soon as he was made aware of them. Punishment that ended up being averted by something as inconsequential as words and Michael's own weakened state. And now Crowley was not only safe from obliteration for the time being, but the former king of hell had somehow gotten him to agree to meet him for drinks.
He didn't need to look to know that Lucifer was delightedly giggling over the whole thing while Raphael burned holes in his still-healing wings with his stare of intense disapproval.
Ignoring his imaginary brothers entirely, Michael kept his word to meet the demon. He'd gone on foot, though thankfully it was his choice now and not his damaged wings or weakened grace making the decision for him. He hadn't been lying when he said he enjoyed the sun and the open air, even with the snow. It made him a little later than he meant to be, but the look of Crowley at the bar when he entered suggested that he wasn't going to hold it against him.
He took the time to hang up his leather jacket and order a straight bourbon from the bartender before coming to sit down beside Crowley, mentally sizing up the demon now that they were in the same place. Perhaps he didn't actively remember him but his presence felt familiar enough Michael felt himself tense. He'd calm down, he was mostly certain. "They tell me that Lucifer ran a nightclub during his stay here. I half expected you follow his lead and spend your time somewhere expensive enough to be considered refined."