Crowley had wondered how Michael would take the news. Michael wasn't known for being good-tempered, he wasn't called Heaven's sword for nothing, he was the one that killed the Nephilim the first time around after all. He watched him out of the corner of his eye, his thumb tapping lightly along the rim of his glass in tune to the beat of the music that was thumping across the speakers overhead.
All things considered, he took it better than expected. Crowley was glad, he thought, as he cast a look at the bartender. He was a decent sort, smelled a bit like wet dog, but he was friendly enough and didn't ask questions whenever Crowley came in looking especially surly. Got along well with the other patrons and was pretty good at resolving some serious conflicts.
Crowley merely nodded, looking over at the archangel. "There's more than one reason I've been keeping a distance from that one," Crowley admitted, "Ever since that one turned up, everything's just felt... wrong." His gaze lowered to the bar. "I wasn't actually there when Lucifer's kid was born, but I was there with Kelly-- the human that had the misfortune of being the mother. I felt the power. The antichrist here... that power, it's different. Wrong. Though to be fair, I felt the same about the Nephilim, too."
He looked over at Michael. "The archangel you're talking about... it's the one behind that light show, I take it?"