"Back here, dear boy," Aziraphale replied. He stepped into the doorway, from the backroom. He had a very old book in his hands, and a childlike glee brightened his eyes and his entire face. He grinned at Crowley, and stepped back to invite the other into the backroom.
"It isn't quite like home, but it will do." He gestured with a hand. In addition to endless bookcases filled with old, rare, hard to find books, the room included a rustic desk and a well worn sofa. An open bottle of whiskey sat among the books on the desk.