Disclaimer: I own no angels or demons. Or do I.....? No, I don't.
Aziraphale was quite surprised to find that a woman had bothered to decipher the table of opening hours which was written in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, and come into his shop at 2 am.
Nay, he said to himself, quite surprised does not do it justice.
He was rather surprised.
She was a very tall, very beautiful woman with chalk white skin and reddish gold hair piled on her head.
Approaching the table with a slightly flickering red mouth, she slammed a purple – nailed hand on the desk.
"You have somezing I wont."
Aziraphale stared, so taken aback that he did not bother to do it politely. "R- er, really? And what might that be, my dear?"
"You have ze knowledge and acquaintance of my huzzband."
"Erm," Aziraphale skimmed through all the men he knew: the librarian, the corner shop man, Crowley, the milkman, the busdriver…"
"Erm, is he a busdriver?"
"I zincerely hope not," she replied sharply. "He was a fine demon, juzzt a complete doormat."
Aziraphale was forced into being very surprizzed! Er, surprised.
