Aziraphale sat comfortably in his shop, humming to himself as he drank cocoa from his winged mug, and read from his book. He waved at a few passing humans that walked by the window, of which he was familiar with, but otherwise kept quiet.

That was, until the bell rang, and he glanced over, raising an inquisitive brow. He smiled politely at the guest, and set his book down, before he spoke, his tone gentle but somewhat firm.

“Hello! I’m afraid if you’re here for a book, I cannot help you.”