It was a nice day.

All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain poured outside, dappling the windows in a rather affectionate manner as all things should. A familiar angel stands within the bookshop known as A.Z. Fell and Co. His pointed nose is buried in a book that the man can't seem to put down quite yet. After all, why would someone like to on a day as nice as this?

Life had other plans though as the bell chimed and you stepped in.