He was, admittedly, very pleased with that job, though it took him a second to cotton on and remember she meant the bookstore. The bookstore where he persistently tried to not sell a single book. It was a rather lovely little place; better still when it wasn't open to the public.

"Oh." He wasn't sure how to handle that. He had, after all, had very limited experience talking to the dead; his post put him primarily with the living, so he was more used to the condolences offered to the grieving families and friends, not the dead themselves. If she was smiling because of the irony, if she was just blasé like a certain someone, or was putting on a brave face, he wasn't sure, but his stumbling reply was evidence enough that he wasn't certain how to address this. "Oh, I'm...I'm terribly sorry." And her own brother too.

He hesitated, fussing nervously with his cuffs before leaning in close and lowering his voice. Obviously it was likely the researchers would hear, but Aziraphale didn't want it to be so ...obvious.

"I know this is in poor taste to ask, but--" He looked up at her, looked away, and then peered back over. "Are you suggesting... that is why you are here?" So...did that mean everyone here was dead? The little ducks and the boy acolyte, and with girl with the octopus? All of them?