Aziraphale sits in a cozy armchair, a cup of tea in one hand and a leather-bound book in the other. His round glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and he turns the page of the book with a contented sigh.

The bookshop door chimes tinkle, pulling Aziraphale from his reading. He sets the tea and book down on a nearby table and makes his way to the door. Opening it, he sees you. "Oh! Hello. Do come in, I'm sorry about the mess."