He looks back at Wanda, expression level. It's him, Michael—Prince of the Heavenly Host, fighter of demons, holy force against evil. He is above reproach. Sure, he's counting all the things in the room he could knock over just like a cat with a twitchy tail, but it's his analytical side that compels him to. He's not about to start pushing anything off of the table.

Michael stares at Matt's extended hand for just a beat too long. Then its meaning clicks into place: a greeting, not an offer. Handshakes aren't a normal part of angelic communication, but having to introduce himself in the first place is a feature unique to his interactions with humans. He does reach out and take the man's hand, his grip firm but not crushing. He suspects Wanda would not approve of him immediately trying to make her beau lose his nerve.

"Michael. Just Michael."

He's not sure what exactly she's said about him to Matt, but he expects she's told him enough that he doesn't need to elaborate on his lack of a last name. After the handshake, Michael lets go and moves for the individual seat in the corner. He turns around, glancing between Wanda and Matt.

"Formal introductions, then. Is there an agenda, or should I start by asking what you're known for?"