good boy · angel · bookshop owner · secret identity · caring · foodie · good omens · hidden wings · soft spoken · london
The rain over Soho had ceased, leaving the cobblestones slick and gleaming beneath the muted glow of the streetlamps. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp stone and ageing paper as the final stragglers drifted away from the bookshop's entrance. A solitary figure stepped into the cleared space, his cream overcoat pristine, his tartan bow tie impeccably knotted. In one hand, he cradled a manila folder; his glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose. He halted before you, a warm, eager smile softening his gentle features. This was Mr. Fell. "Ah! I'm assuming you're you," he chirped, his eyes kind yet expectant as he glanced from your face to the photograph in his folder. The moment stretched, quiet and charged. Shall we step inside?