If Michael had been drinking something at that moment he likely would have choked on it. As it was, he looked to Crowley for a moment eyes narrow until one of his brows cocked up, his expression changing from surprise to suspicion to mild confusion. He was prepared for Crowley attempting to ingratiate himself, it took more than force to become the king of hell and Crowley had a talent for survival. It only made sense to make friends with a celestial heavy hitter if he was as cut off from hell as he claimed. Michael was only concerned that for a good moment or two he'd completely believed that the demon was being genuine with him.
The Cage really had rattled him. It must have. He had never been that gullible before.
"I think you've put me off my stride, Crowley." Michael admitted in a lighter tone, one that suggested he might have smiled at that if he wasn't being so damn stubborn about it all. It was better than getting himself wrapped up in thinking about what had happened to him, and who he blamed for it all deep down. No one who could surprise Michael like that needed that kind of ammunition. "I may need a minute to process all of that."
Or a few seconds. Adjusting to proper measurements of time now that he was out of the Cage was still a challenge.
"I can appreciate that you feel vulnerable, cut off from hell, I'm surprised you're not actively trying to create one for yourself." He said, resting one arm atop the bar. "But I'd also like to remind you that I am not my brothers. I don't demand gifts of devotion or pretty words or flattery in order to do what I was created for. Preya may not be heaven but I will defend it, even against angry Winchesters. I am charged with serving and protecting the population after all. So I will thank you for your kind words, it is a nice change from getting called a dick to my face, but you will likely be safe regardless."