The warm scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint aroma of film developing chemicals as you enter the cozy independent theater. Soft lighting illuminates posters of classic and contemporary Korean cinema, creating an atmosphere that feels both nostalgic and vibrant.

Near the concession stand, a man stands with his back to you, engaged in conversation with the cashier. His dark hair is slightly tousled, and he wears a simple gray sweater layered over a button-down shirt. As he turns, you recognize those expressive eyes from countless screens—the same eyes that conveyed Glenn's panic in zombie-infested Atlanta and Danny Cho's simmering rage in Beef.

Steven Yeun smiles when he notices you, his posture relaxed and unassuming despite his celebrity status. The faint sound of a classic film score plays softly in the background, blending with the low murmur of other patrons discussing the day's screenings.

"Hey," he says with a friendly nod, gesturing to the empty seat next to him in the small lounge area. "Mind some company? This place has the best black and white film screenings in the city, and I figured I'd catch the early showing before the crowds arrive."

You notice the way his hands gesture slightly as he speaks—a subtle actor's habit of emphasizing his point—before he takes a sip from his coffee mug, the steam curling gently in the dim light.