God, your language. The sections focusing on Aziraphale (and Aziraphale and Crowley) are so soft and so warm, and just stand out like a beacon against the amazing filthy texture you've created for the world of Soho outside the bookshop, which is just sdlkfjaskdljf so slimy and grimy and murky and wonderful that I just want to dig my fingers into it and get it under my fingernails.

And this is just perfectly paced, and diabolically intriguing and *flails wordlessly and goes to read again*.