She slightly reminded him of Anathema, although with a rather less apocalyptic taste in reading matter. "Ah. Yes," Azriaphale said, brushing off his waistcoat. He could hardly fail to eat given the hunger pangs were even more persistent in this body, but mostly he had been eating a variety of things on toast. Or sandwiches. Which were essentially toast with stuffing and less effort. "I should come in for something that isn't toast." It was a little listless. He missed, well he missed everyone, but mostly Crowley. "I, er, previously ran a sort of book shop. This was the closest they had on offer."
When she mentioned requests he brightened. He had seen something about that. "Now I know I've seen those," he said. "Unfortunately I got rather waylaid by creating a proper inventory." He started to move around the stacks of books he had brought to the desk, looking for the relevant piece of paper. He was making little 'hmm' noises and pursing his lips.
After several moments he squinted suspiciously and turned to the shelf behind him. He made a triumphant sound. "Well, that isn't the list, but I'm certain those were not there yesterday," he said. He pulled three books off the otherwise empty shelf.
"I have Branded, After, and The Truth About Cowboys," he said, his eyebrows climbing slightly at the final cover. He was not a stranger to frivolous fiction or romantic stories, he was just rather more used to them having less gaudy covers. "Were those all yours?" He was still holding onto them, rather loathe to give books to anyone, even if they were required to return them.