There were not many people in the bar. Two or three drunk guys occupied a small round table each, howling a few words from time to time, but they didn't have much energy.

The only customer at the bar is Lumian's neighbor, playwright Gabriel who lives in room 206.

He was wearing the whitewashed linen shirt, a pair of brown trousers, large black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, and his hair was messy and oily.