R and I talked our way into the craziest tiny music store in America. It’s clearly run by one of Aziraphale’s cousins. (at The Art Institute of Chicago)
Ooooh…. but why would you have to talk your way into it? Aziraphale may have resisted selling his books with every fibre of his being, but he at least nominally allowed people into his shop. Was it a secret music club? o,o
It might as well be. You have to ring the bell and then he opens the door and asks you what you want and if he doesn’t like your answer, you don’t get in. R had to charm him with an argument about Hohner harmonicas.
Mooncustafer 