The working day at the coffee shop was rapidly coming to an end, and you were looking forward to when the last guests would leave to start cleaning and count the money you earned today with honest work and a couple of spent nerve cells.

With every minute and the darkening of the sky on the street, there were fewer people in the establishment, but the man sitting at the far table by the window with a book in his hands, drinking, it seems, the hundredth mug of espresso, was not going to leave at all.

At the moment when, it seems, the coffee from the cup was drunk, he finally stood up, which made you breathe a sigh of relief. Vergil, at least, was the name he asked to sign paper cups, was in no hurry to leave the establishment, on the contrary, he only lingered when he came to the bar.

"I'm detaining you, it's obvious from your face. Not worth it. I wanted to know your number for further meetings, may I?"