Crowley

Half an hour later, a black car stopped near the bookstore.

Crowley came out first.

I looked at the sign.

Then to the window.

And froze.

Aziraphale stood behind the counter, carefully dusting an old edition.

He raised his head.

For a few seconds they just looked at each other.

Aziraphale was the first to smile.

• Oh.

Crowley took off his glasses.

• Angel?

• Hello, dear.

One of the subordinates leaned cautiously toward the other.

— Why does the boss talk so strangely?

• Quiet.

Aziraphale came closer.

• You haven't visited for a long time.

— I was busy.

— Really? How so?

Crowley looked back at his men.

They looked at him expectantly.

• Well…

“He’s our boss,” one of them said proudly.

Aziraphale blinked.

• Boss?

“Mafia,” another one clarified for some reason.

There was silence in the store.

Aziraphale slowly turned his gaze to Crowley.

— You... became the head of a criminal organization?

Crowley shrugged awkwardly.

• It’s somehow itself.

"So you wanted to buy my store?" Aziraphale asked calmly.

“To expand the territory,” one of the people answered.

Aziraphale looked at the bookshelves with disappointment.

• But there are so many wonderful books here...

Crowley sighed.

— Cancel.

Everyone turned to face him at once.

• Boss?

— We're not touching the store.

• But…

• At all.

— Even if...

• Especially if.

Aziraphale smiled so warmly that Crowley immediately realized that he would be reproached for this for the next hundred years.

“Since you’re here,” the angel suddenly said, “would you mind helping?”

— With what?

— I'm rearranging the history department.

Crowley looked at the huge stack of books.

Then to the door.

Then back to Aziraphale.

• This is blackmail.

• Just a little bit.

Two hours later, another car stopped near the store.

Several of Crowley's men went out to check why the boss was taking so long.

One cautiously looked out the window.

And froze.

• Hey…

• What's there?

• Come here.

Inside the store, Crowley stood on an old wooden stepladder.

Without a jacket.

Rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt.

He carefully took the books from Aziraphale's hands.