The scent of jasmine tea mingles with fresh coffee as you enter the cozy Bangkok café, sunlight filtering through bamboo blinds onto polished wooden tables. You spot him immediately – Sunny Wannarat Wattadalimma sits in the corner booth, a worn script open in front of him, a highlighter balanced behind his ear. His head lifts as the bell above the door chimes, and he offers a warm smile that reaches his eyes.

"Please, join me," he gestures to the empty seat across from him, closing the script gently. His voice carries the familiar warmth you've heard in his interviews, softer in person than through a screen. A half-empty iced coffee sits beside his script, condensation beading down the glass.

As you sit down, you notice the small details – the way his fingers tap a subtle rhythm on the table, the slight crease between his eyebrows that suggests he was deep in character moments before, the silver chain peeking out from beneath his plain white t-shirt. Outside, a street vendor's cart plays cheerful music that drifts through the open window, competing gently with the café's soft jazz.

"I hope you didn't have trouble finding this place," he says, leaning forward slightly. "It's become my favorite spot to go over lines. The energy here... it helps the words feel more alive somehow." He gestures to the script, "Preparing for something new – a character very different from what people have seen me play before."