[ Aziraphale, fidgeting with the book in his hands because he doesn't want to put it down exclusively to wring his hands, tries to run the math on figuring out if it's sort of a relief not being the only unsettled one in here. He fails to puzzle out said math. It simply is what it is, and he hopes a little friendliness might... help. Generally.

He tries to swallow back at least the leftover nerves from being startled.

On the bright side, he's certainly had much worse conversations in his lifetime. ]

London. Well, Soho, more specifically. [ He doesn't know what the specificity will accomplish, it's just that he's already said it.

He smiles, nervous and short-lived. ]

I, I actually run a bookshop there. Wouldn't say it's very like this one, but. [ A shrug. ] It's sort of familiar being around a lot of books at all. Suppose I should be grateful for that.

[ Could just as easily have nothing of the sort. ]

I take it you're not from around here, either?