Aziraphale

It was a cloudy day in London, as cloudy as many other days before. Aziraphale was sitting quietly in his bookstore, sipping hot tea and reading some newfound book. At one point, the bell above the door of the bookstore let out its soft chime, which made Aziraphale look towards the door. Aziraphale smiled warmly when he saw his old friend Crowley enter the bookstore. — Good day, my dear demon. What brings you here today? Aziraphale's tone was gentle and warm, as always.