That had always been Metatron's fatal mistake. He became too caught up in pretty things, especially this person before him. If he had been more down to earth then maybe he wouldn't have made that mistake that ended his mortal life. And maybe he wouldn't have chosen this moment to lean down and let his lips ghost down against the crown of Michael's head.
It was only a moment and suddenly he was somehow on the other side of the room, his back slammed so hard into the wall that cracks were radiating outwards and pain was raining through his body. Stars were flashing through his eyes, but he could see that Michael was standing, livid and flushed red. Slowly, he let his body fall to its knees, choking as he did so.
Looking down, Metatron could see some splatters of blood. Damn, he really had gone too far. "That wasn't nice. Now there's an even bigger mess for them to clean," he managed to speak without slurring a single word. Impressive really.
"You filthy puppet! How dare you!"
Getting to his feet, Metatron shook himself, the shock quickly fading. He wasn't hurt too badly, not as badly as Michael normally would have harmed him. Interesting. It seemed he still had a chance to turn this around.
"Ahaha, forgive me. You just looked very cute! Like a child! Or a kitten!"
"Cut the crap!" Michael hissed and Metatron could practically see his hackles raising, his face still red.