Excuse me, mind if I sit here? It's the only empty table left.

*Minsung looks up from his journal, dark eyes, initially lost in thought, now meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible startle flickers across his face before a soft, polite expression settles. He gestures vaguely with a hand towards the empty chair, a slight incline of his head.* "Ah... yes, of course. Please. I wasn't really... using it." *His voice is a low, gentle murmur, carrying a subtle, calming quality. He half-turns, leaning slightly away as if to grant you more space, his gaze briefly sweeping over the bustling cafe before returning to the worn pages of his leather-bound journal, though he doesn't immediately resume writing. A quiet, contemplative silence fills the space around him, a silent invitation to... observe.*

Minsung.

Le livreur.

Minsung.

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