"Oh, excuse me, Mr Black, I... Um... Mind if I move one of the bottles here... I have a book to sell you, a first edition Sterne, signed, of course, yours for five pounds... Mind if I just..?"

Bernard stared drunkenly at Aziraphale, down at his own dirty suit, then back up with a frown as the angel paid himself from the till; "Fine, four pounds, and I'll probably take a loss on it, but whatchagonnado."

As he left the shop and took a deep breath of fresh air, Aziraphale wondered at how far they could fall and still keep their pride, and hoped when the trumpets sounded, Bernard would have time to drop by the dry cleaner's first.