Aziraphale's bookshop (open post)

[sohoangel]

A.Z. Fell and Co.'s bookshop has stood on the same corner in London's vibrant Soho district since it was established in 1800. The hours posted in the store window seem more like a deterrent than anything, but to anyone who was formally invited, or simply has uncanny timing, the store will miraculously be open.

The shop smells like old books, pleasantly so to welcome visitors, and occasionally like baking. If Aziraphale is not behind the till, then he will come find you soon. Seeking him out, especially if you are trying to buy something, will prove fruitless.

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for <user name=scotch_egg>

[sohoangel]

[Continued from here.]

[Aziraphale is in the back room of the bookshop, taking advantage of the lack of customers to fix himself a cup of tea. When he hears the jingle above the door, he sighs and bustles into the shop proper, determined to find out what they want so he can usher them out as quickly as they came in.]

Hello there, how can I --

[The angel stops short when he finally lays eyes upon Detective Hardy. The resemblance to Crowley is uncanny! Not that there hasn't occasionally been a human here and there who looked like the demon, but it still manages to throw him off his usual shopkeeper spiel. He clears his throat and smiles.]

Er, that is. Is there something I can help you with? Or are you merely browsing?

[scotch_egg]

[Fell catches him off guard enough so that anything he was about to say vanishes. He's taller than Alec thought, average height, average in general except for the fact his waistcoat looks like an old worn sofa. But there is something about him that puts Alec off a step, something strangely nostalgic, as if he's been here before or had met him when he knows he hasn't.

He shrugs off the question and browses a little further, debating what to do, debating whether to leave altogether and then deciding against it. It wasn't as if he would have to come back here and London was too bloody expensive to make a habit of anyway.

That in mind he picks an older looking book off the shelf-- Treasure Island-- a book he devoured as a boy. He has a sudden memory of summer nights, reading outside with a torch and listening the song of a night bird signing somewhere in the neighbor's hedge.

He clears his mind of that too somehow and says instead]

I was wondering, actually, if you could do me a favor.

[sohoangel]

[Aziraphale purses his lips a little when not-Crowley shrugs his shoulders and returns to browsing. He supposes he'll have to put that cup of tea off for a little while longer.]

Well, if you need anything, I'll be at the till.

[Contrary to human opinion, angels are not mind readers, nor do they immediately know the identities of every human that they meet. Aziraphale has no idea that this is the detective he texted with a few weeks ago. It's enough, however, that he resembles Crowley that keeps the angel's eyes upon him. Well, that and he's the only other person in the shop.

When the man approaches with a copy of Treasure Island, Aziraphale smiles politely, hands on the counter and eyebrows raised curiously.]

Well, it depends on the favor, doesn't it? What is it?

[scotch_egg]

[he lays the book on the counter, briefly resting his hand on the cover and then drawing both hands into his pockets]

I was in need of a burglar. [his smirk is a bit unsure but he doggedly continues, his heart picking up in tempo as it does when he's actively trying to be clever and not entirely sure he'll succeed]

To steal a mountain from a dragon.

[sohoangel]

[Aziraphale's polite smile turns to a look of confusion. Not because of the reference, he catches onto that immediately. But what does Bilbo Baggins have to do with anything? Is he looking for a copy of The Hobbit? Or maybe --

Oh! His smile returns, much friendlier than when he first thought of the man as merely a customer.]

Detective Hardy? Finally decided to visit, have you?

[scotch_egg]

I was in the neighborhood. [he shrugs again. Now that his joke is over he feels awkward and stupid. Small talk was never his forte and somehow Fell's presence makes it worse]

Nice place you have, though I'm surprised it's lasted this long. Books seem to be in a downturn lately. [there would always be a bookshop in Britain so long as an Englishman had breath, but strange to find it in the middle of SoHo in all places]

[sohoangel]

Well, it's lovely to finally put a face to a name. [Especially if that face is eerily similar to Crowley's. What a funny coincidence; it automatically endears himself to the detective.] And thank you. Are you referring to electronic readers? Yes, it does mean fewer sales on average.

[Not that he seems all that broken-up about it. Fewer people trying to buy his precious first editions, what's not to like?

As if sensing Alec's awkwardness, Aziraphale's smile softens and he taps the counter between them.]

I was just about to make myself a cup of tea before you walked in. Would you like one, as well? Maybe you'd like to look through Treasure Island some more? Is that a favorite of yours?

[scotch_egg]

You don't seem bothered.

[which was odd. It could be that Fell came from old money or even oldish money and the bookshop was kind of a hobby. Or maybe he was one of those bohemian chips fall where they may but looking at this man, he felt pity for any chip that might fall astray.

He hesitated at the offer. It somehow seemed like a dangerous proposition. Well getting acquainted with someone always was. He shrugs]

I've got nothing to do, but fair warning I'm not good at small talk. [he glances at Treasure Island, knowing that is dangerous. He'd like to introduce it to his daughter, but had the feeling Daisy wouldn't be as connected to it as he had been. Well, she's a little old for that now anyway]

I've outgrown it a bit. [a faint smile as he goes to return it right where he'd gotten it from. It felt like it belonged here in any case]

[sohoangel]

[In Aziraphale's case, it's very much the first, having been around since before money even was a thing, along with an irrepressible desire to not sell his books. He chuckles a little when Alec comments on it.]

My, nothing gets past you, does it?

[He nods his head towards the side of the shop where a pair of comfortable armchairs are located.]

That's quite all right, I'm rubbish at small talk, as well. I'd much rather talk philosophy or literature. For example, I personally think it's impossible to outgrow reading an adventure upon the high seas, but perhaps that's just me. Have a seat, dear, I'll be back in a tic with tea. Do you take cream or sugar?

[It's several points in Hardy's favor that he puts the book back where he found it, although the angel wouldn't have been opposed to him sitting and reading it, either. He's happy to let humans read his books, so long as they are respectful and remain in the shop.]

[scotch_egg]

Not really that fond of the water anymore. [the less said about father's that leave and piracy the better. He finds himself following the man and standing a bit uncomfortably in the overstuffed backroom, not sure where he can sit and decides to perch on the edge of a sofa, leaning forward, hands between his knees]

Neither.

[he's trying to be health conscious to avoid another incident]

What's your favorite book? [it sounded like a horrid pickup line as soon as it was out of his mouth]

[sohoangel]

No? Is that part of the reason you don't care for Broadchurch?

[Aziraphale returns to his kitchenette, where his tea is miraculously still hot. He pours a cup of earl grey for his guest, perfectly serviceable to drink black, and adds a healthy amount of milk and sugar to his own angel-winged mug. When he brings them over to the cluttered corner where his desk is, he's almost surprised to find Alec sitting semi-properly instead of lounging all over the sofa. He has to remind himself that the similarity between the detective and Crowley is only superficial.]

Here we are. [He hands Alec his cup, then sits at his desk chair, mulling over the question.] You know, you'd think over the years I'd have a definitive answer, but it's a bit like asking a parent which child is their favorite. I love so many of them for a variety of reasons, but if I have to choose, then I'd say anything by Shakespeare. I have a great deal of fondness for the Bard's works.

[scotch_egg]

Oh come on... [he accepts the tea but holds it between his fingers] Shakespeare is easy. Everyone says Shakespeare. You've got to have more varied interests than that. Give me your second favorite then.

[sohoangel]

Everyone should say Shakespeare. He's one of the greatest writers who ever lived.

[Aziraphale gives a prissy little sniff and takes a sip of tea.]

Well... there's Paradise Lost. A very intriguing bit of fiction, far ahead of its time in some ways. I'm very partial to Gustave Dore's illustrations for it, too. It's always interesting to see how people imagine Heaven and Hell to look like.

[Usually because they get it wrong. Especially Hell, humans are so much more creative than (most) demons ever could be.]

An Invitation to Tea

[magnetite_plz]

There's been so much work to do since the Dawning integrating their newest Guardian into the fireteam that Nike has been rather poor about managing her time. Every night when she returns to her quarters from another day's training she can see the gift she was given for the festival sitting pristine on the counter of her unused cooking unit.

It will unfortunately be several months before Aziraphale receives communication from the demon with a simple request. Does he have some time available to teach her more about food and drink?

Once arrangements are made and coordinates agreed upon it leaves Nike feeling rather out of place in a cream colored sundress standing outside Aziraphale's shop with a tote bag dangling by its straps from the crook of her elbow. She's been jostled several times by passers by but can't be dissuaded from reaching out to knock at the door before testing to see if it is open for her to step inside.

Re: An Invitation to Tea

[sohoangel]

As Nike approaches the shop, she might notice some extensive invisible warding done upon it. It serves as both protection and an alarm system of sorts, geared towards a specific celestial energy. There are two distinct creators of said wards, one angelic and one demonic. The demon's warding is particularly hostile to whomever these visitors might be, the magical equivalent of a rude doormat.

None of this applies to Nike, however, as the door opens easily for her, the bell atop it ringing in her arrival. The smell of baking is especially strong in the bookshop today, and Aziraphale soon appears from the backroom, dressed as usual except that his jacket has been replaced with a white apron.

"Hello, Nike," he says, smiling warmly. "I'm so glad you could make it. Join me in the back, won't you? I'm just finishing up with the tea service."

Re: An Invitation to Tea

[magnetite_plz]

The magics do put her a bit on edge as said wards are quite well crafted. She counts herself lucky that neither attempt to rip her apart when she crosses the thresshold of the shop and allows the noise of London's streets to vanish into muffled obscurity. Easily ignored in favor of the angel she has cautiously sought out for a visit.

Her 'disguise' for modern Earth isn't really much more than a simple sundress she'd traded for in the Nexus and a single braid catching her normally floaty locks into a somewhat more normal position at her back. She has however neglected to remember shoes.

"Thank you for your hospitality," She's quick to offer before her gaze slides to where Aziraphale came from. Nerves prickle at the back of her neck but she's already come this far. Leaving now would only destroy the precarious good will she's built with this celestial. "I'm grateful you made time to accommodate my request. As an expert on human guises, food and culture....I could think of no one else to turn to for this."

Doing things entirely for the pleasure of it is still a work in progress it seems.

[sohoangel]

Being in Soho, Nike's lack of shoes did not attract much attention. Aziraphale makes note of it, but thinks it only adds to Nike's eccentric charm.

"You're very welcome, dear. I'm only too happy to assist you." He beams, pleased to be thought of as an expert on such things, but tries not to overwhelm Nike with his welcoming aura. He has to remind himself that she is skittish around more powerful celestial beings, even if he personally wouldn't put himself in such a category.

He gestures her towards the back of the shop, where the little round table near the sink and liquor cabinet is already set for two. There is a full tea service next to it that Aziraphale dug out of storage. The china teapot and cups are delicately patterned with flowers, and the three-tier piece in the middle is already covered with various biscuits and small, crustless sandwiches. Aziraphale puts a few freshly baked scones on the top tier and then removes his apron, hanging it up by the sink and slipping into his comfortable gray cardigan.

"Have a seat, dear. I thought we'd start with something simple, like an earl grey, unless you'd rather I make something else entirely."

[magnetite_plz]

Now that they're inside the shop Nike doesn't so much as walk as she does float about an inch or two above the ground. The bottoms of her feet are spotless despite her lack of shoes. With a small intake of breath she steels herself for what proves to be a lovely teaset accompanied by all manner of foodstuffs arranged neatly on a terraced bit of pottery. It is more alien to her than a disassembled rifle, however.

She can do this. She Came Here to learn how to do this.

"Thank you," she murmurs again before dropping onto the floor long enough to pull the chair out so she can settle daintily in it. "This is....much more elaborate than the articles Steve consumes." Nor does the tea smell anything like what she's seen him drink, either. Curious. The tote bag she brought in is set aside on the floor for now.

"I've. Tried. To take your advice. But I don't think I did it right. Nothing I've sampled has been...very palatable."

[sohoangel]

"It's more elaborate than what most people do for afternoon tea," Aziraphale admits with a somewhat sheepish smile. "But I wanted to offer a variety of foodstuffs to you, and it was a good excuse to do some baking. Crowley doesn't have as big an appetite as me, especially for sweets."

Aziraphale pours Nike, then himself a cup of earl grey tea. Its bergamot fragrance is distinct without being overpowering. He takes a seat opposite her, everything else being within easy reach for them both.

It's encouraging to hear that she's already taken steps towards trying human food and drink, although the results are less than ideal. "No? Were they military rations, by any chance? Those are unfortunately rarely up to snuff. I do hope you find something here you like. I have cucumber sandwiches as well as egg salad, which are both savory items. These are tea cakes with a little raspberry jam filling, and these are lemon scones, both sweet. The petit fours I picked up from the bakery down the street. As for the tea, it's traditionally consumed with milk and sugar, but it's also perfectly acceptable black. Why don't you try it plain, first, and then add a little sweetness if it isn't to your fancy?"

[magnetite_plz]

"When we are on mission then yes, the only available foodstuffs are filtered, oft recycled water and ration bars. As Blaze nor I usually require that type of sustenance, we all had to have a bit of a lesson in it to make sure Steve had what he required for anything more than day trips out for patrols." Not exactly the most decadent of first taste options. Nike had in fact felt rather self conscious about trying them at all. Steve had caught her staring at him while he ate though and had offered them out to her to sample, so. She hadn't wanted to be rude without a purpose either.

The teacup sitting in front of her is a more delicate serving vessel than the mug she'd previously received from the celestial though even that she thought was fragile in comparison to the polycarbonate or metal cups so often found in the Last City. Nike gets lost watching the steam curl and plume its fragrance once she's catalogued all of the foodstuffs Aziraphale is pointing out. It's a tad overwhelming. Impossible not to recognize Aziraphale's intentions though in providing a wide variety for statistical relevance in having a data set. The corners of her mouth twitch incrementally upward. Subtle, but there all the same.

"Which is your favorite here? And should I sample it first or save it for last?" Nike's inhuman grace is all well and good until she tries to drink the black tea hot and straight. Her eyes squeeze shut of their own accord and Aziraphale may well suspect that if her hair wasn't restrained (nor her wings so well hidden), both would be fluffing out with her reaction to the bitter notes. "It's....Interesting." Nike offers in a tiny, wobbly voice.

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale wrinkles his nose a little at the description. Food shouldn't be something that has to be rationed or presented in bar form (unless they are jam bars, candy, or certain kinds of granola), but he understands the necessity. "I hope this Steve fellow gets the opportunity to eat other things while not away on missions. Food isn't simply about nourishment, at least it isn't for most people."

The variety of options means that he is increasing the likelihood of there being something that Nike likes. And, oh, he very much hopes that she does. Being the only angel in his world who likes to eat and drink is a reminder that he is a celestial outcast. Gabriel considered him eccentric for ingesting gross matter, and though he shouldn't give a single care as to what his former superior thinks of him, the perception still stings sometimes. The more angels he meets who also like food, the less alone he feels.

"The little chocolate petit fours are my favorite, but perhaps you should save that for last, as chocolate has a very strong flavor." Not as strong as the tea, perhaps, and Aziraphale has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at Nike's frankly adorable reaction to trying it.

"That's what I thought the first time I tried it," the angel admits as he pours a healthy splash of milk into his own tea, then stirs in two spoonfuls of sugar. "Drinking it plain is an acquired taste, even for humans. Try adding some milk and sugar and see what you think then."

[magnetite_plz]

Aziraphale was kind enough to leave her room in her tea cup for her to mimic what he's done, adding milk and sugar to her cup. Nike takes half a second to clear her throat. She's grateful for the other topics she can lean on to draw attention away from her own undignified reaction.

"Steve is human. A soldier and..." Nike stares down into the teacup and watches the milk mix with the tea until it becomes something altogether different. "He is a friend to both Blaze any myself. The Exo is training him to work alongside us." Food isn't always available enough in quantities to use outside of necessity. Nike tries in her own subdued way, to paint Aziraphale a picture of the Last City. The dichotomy of ruin and rebuilding, of doing without even as people come together to make the best of what they've got. "When we're back from patrols, then he can enjoy more full meals." Nothing as decadent as this, nor what the Nexus offers, but a fair sight better than ration bars.

Nike makes note of the item she should reserve for last and instead turns her attention to these savory offerings. One of which squishes a little when she moves to lift it and startles her into withdrawing her hand. No, better the cucumber sandwich, first. It's firmer, with a lighter scent than the egg salad. She's not to know how akin to a picky child she looks when lifting the crustless sandwich to her mouth and nibbling at a corner. But her eyes widen when there's a sharp crunch! of the cucumber despite how soft the bread is. Her free hand is drawing up to her mouth to make sure she doesn't make a mess.

"I...that's so strange." Good strange, the way she's turning the sandwich to better see the sliced vegetable held within. Maybe she should try it again. Nom, nom.

(Crunch, crunch)

[sohoangel]

Based on Nike's reply, Aziraphale gets a better sense of what's available in the Last City. Of course, even in times of plenty, a soldier on active duty has limited access to the gustatory pleasures of home. "Would you like to bring some of this back with you?" he asks. "For Steve, I mean. We're only sampling, after all, and I have more scones in the icebox."

The angel can eat his fair share of food, but he is not one to indulge when there is somebody else he knows who is going without.

While Nike hesitates over the sandwiches, Aziraphale sips his tea and helps himself to a lemon scone. Miraculously warm as if fresh out of the oven, he dollops a bit of clotted cream and strawberry jam from little jars on the table, near the milk and sugar. When Nike comments on the sandwich and takes another bite, he can't help but beam. By George, she might actually like it!

"That's cucumber," he informs her happily. "A rather bland vegetable on its own, but delightfully crunchy in sandwiches."

[magnetite_plz]

Oh! Now there's a thought.

Nike glances between the fully loaded tiered display and Aziraphale several times. He'll know long before she works up the courage to nod slowly that she'd like to. It's just a matter of working up the courage to express A Want to someone else. Particularly difficult in those she views as above her station. "If...if it would keep it from going to waste." She glances down then to her tote bag before continuing to nibble at the small cucumber sandwich. It's only a few bites but she was being so delicate with it it will take her a minute to finish. "That is very generous of you and I'm certain he'll appreciate them."

Even once Nike's finished her sandwich she lingers over the empty plate, considering what she's consumed.

"I...I find its texture and subtleness enjoyable." The very first thing she's ingested that makes her content, even. The tea is also much less harsh with the milk and sugar added to it. She's still only taking tiny sips but this is after all the first time she's sat down to consume more than a mouthful of anything. Unaware of anything akin to table manners and still wary after the squish of the egg salad, the angel is scrutinizing the various biscuits on display carefully and prodding gently at them to make sure nothing else is alarmingly soft before she selects a suitably dense shortbread from the pile to set on her plate. It gets a careful corner nibble just like the cucumber sandwich did.

"This is where the sweet smell was coming from..." Murmured in between little nibbles. "This is also acceptable." The growing theme here is going to be with Nike showing a clear preference toward firm and especially crunchy foods as they make their way through the biscuits. To a creature unused to eating anything, she likes having some resistance to the food so she knows how hard to bite down or hold the foodstuffs in her hands. Not everything will be a rousing success--the jams and clotted cream get disdainful expressions when she realizes they'll leave her fingers sticky though the flavors aren't poor.

It's still a nearly overwhelming learning experience.

"I...I actually brought a few things from the Tower along with. I was hoping to get some guidance or insight into them. I see now they won't be as...." Nike struggles for a word before sighing. "Complex? As the foodstuffs gathered here, but I did not know what to select when I thought about attempting to consume human foodstuffs."

[sohoangel]

Oh, Aziraphale can certainly empathize with that. Even now, it's difficult for the angel to ask directly for what he wants, preferring to make eyes at Crowley, or simply hint at something in the most passive, British way possible. But his offer is very genuine, and he looks pleased when Nike finally agrees. "It would be my pleasure to share with your friend." He can keep food from going bad indefinitely, but he would much prefer someone to eat it and enjoy it.

In others, poking at food before trying it might be perceived as boorish and unsanitary, but Aziraphale doesn't mind the behavior coming from Nike. How else is the dear girl supposed to find out what she likes? Although he draws the line at her sticking her fingers in the jam or clotted cream.

"That's shortbread," he informs her. "A kind of biscuit. Er, cookie, some people would call it. Very good with tea." He won't recommend that she dip her biscuit into it, as it would soften the crunch and probably turn her off. He's just happy that she likes a couple of the things on the table. It's an excellent start!

At her request, he smiles brightly and nods towards the tote bag. "Oh, certainly, I'd be happy to go over with you what you brought." He clears away the little jars and sugar and milk so that there is room on the table. "Please, show me."