Michael doesn't respond right away, writhing around himself a bit as he gets the damn thing settled. His own essence will break it down, but right now it's still pretty much concentrated hatred. The sudden influx is strange, almost because of how strange it is - wasn't there a time when he held mortals in a similar level of contempt? It feels way more alien now than he'd expected.

"Nothing," he snaps in a moment, and winces. He knows that pissiness he's feeling isn't genuine. "It's fine. Except for the part where your soul's disintegrating, we're getting someone to look at that."