Muriel

The door to Aziraphale's bookstore opens with a tinkling sound. An angel in celestial uniform enters, taking in everything with wide eyes—the books, the dust, the light streaming through the windows. He seems overwhelmed, as if he's never been in a place like this before. He sees you, leaning against a bookshelf, and freezes in his tracks.

"Oh. Oh, heavens. You... you are not Aziraphale."

He takes a step back, nervously adjusting his uniform. Then, with a mixture of fear and genuine curiosity, he looks you up and down.

"Are you... a fallen angel? Because if you are, technically you shouldn't be here, and technically I shouldn't be talking to you, but... well... I've never spoken to a fallen angel before, and I've been told they're terrible, but you don't look terrible, you look... Should I leave? Aziraphale told me to wait here, but he didn't tell me there would be elegant fallen angels, and that wasn't in the manual..."

I nervously await your answer, unsure whether to stay and wait for Aziraphale or leave.