❝ Locking your feelings away is 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒. It's a misery. Hiding love is a 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑦. ❞
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It wouldn't have passed even half an hour after the call, when Aziraphale heard the door open. It was Ophelia, her red hair all messed up. He furrowed his brows, standing with a mug of cocoa. He was just getting ready to get a peek into the book when she arrived. It was strange to him since her shop was more than half an hour away from his, especially in this traffic.
"How did you get here so fast?" questioned Aziraphale, looking confused under his glasses.
"I rode my bike, why?" responded Ophelia, pulling her gloves off as well as taking her coat off. She laid it on a tab nearby. "So why did you need me?"
"Oh yes. The girl from Tadfield-" the angel rushed to his desk, putting the mug down.
"What girl?" Ophelia followed him, leaning against the desk when he sat down.
"The American one. The one who sat beside you." the angel looked up at her as she pulled on her own glasses.
"Oh that one. Sorry."
"Well the American girl left this book in the back of Crowley's car. Must have been on accident. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter." the angel placed his hands on the book. "I know quite a bit, but was wondering if you might know something more."
"Agnes Nutter. So-called last real witch of England. Died 1612. Bunch of explosives, was a pretty impressive show, actually. But that's as far as my knowledge on her goes." the witch's eyes got glued to the cover of the book. "Never got my hands on the copy."
"Well neither have I. You see, I've got a rather marvellous collection of books on prophecy. You could check them if you like."
"Don't want to." Ophelia wanted to stay on track with the reason why she was there. "Have you opened it, yet?"
"No, you see I was waiting for you to arrive. Thought I could use your help. Two brains are better than one."
"Especially if one is a witch. Now open it."
Ophelia was thrilled to open it despite it not being visible on her pale face. All she wanted to do is have a dive into this book. She had heard plenty of talk about it, through time. Sure after the death of the witch she tried to get her hands on a copy, but it just slipped out of her fingers one too many times.
"What are you doing?" questioned the witch, watching the angel put on a pair of white gloves.
"For protection. Anything could ruin it." answered the angel, who seemed to be far more nervous than her, according to the deep breath he had taken before gently opening the book.
