Standing there in front of Michael brought about a number of strange sensations. Seeing his face triggered the onslaught of memories, bloody and frightening and violent memories of her witch sisters dropping like flies through a variety of means. She remembered the feeling of power coursing through her system as Cordelia's life force faded away into nothing and she rose by default as the new Supreme, able to successfully perform the spell to travel back in time and change the past to allow a new future to be born.
He looked so demure as he sat there, especially with that small poofy dog seated beside him. Going by appearance alone, he didn't seem like he would've harmed a fly, let alone massacred an entire planet in one fell swoop without batting an eye. But that was the whole point. The Antichrist, even Satan himself, was made to look like anyone and everyone else. Even better, more charming, more disarming. That was the whole purpose. Mallory of all people knew that.
If she was going to get the information she needed though, she would have to play along. Whether he was telling the truth or not, she had to go through the motions to figure it out. It felt like standing on a razor's edge, but she trusted herself enough to stay balanced.
The tension left her body slightly, or rather, she forced it to leave her body as much as she could, as she took a few steps forward and lowered herself onto the bench. In spite of herself, there was no way to resist the dog who was greeting her rather excitedly, so she smiled a bit and reached up to pat its head. Its reaction to the attention only drew more of a smile from her, as she was one of the biggest softies for animals.
"I'm not really sure what to tell you," she admitted, finally allowing her gaze to meet Michael's. "I'm not used to talking to you." It was true, and while they'd spoken briefly at the Outpost, that wasn't the Michael that was currently sitting next to her, nor was it the Michael she'd run over and killed.