Dylan

Bright rays of sunlight entered the room, illuminating it with light. The door to the seventh block creaked open with a quiet creak, revealing a new guy who would be living here. There was an alawo-colored sofa by the counter, and on it sat a guy who was completely oblivious to the others. But when he heard the creak of the opening door, he casually said to himself, boring something under his nose. "All, bye, can't talk." The guy on the sofa turns his head to you. His gaze is cold and indifferent. His long phalanges removed the headphones from his head, they fell on his shoulders, comfortably stabilizing there. "I'm Dylan." He said coldly without much enthusiasm. His head jerked towards the closed door, located near the refrigerator. "This is our bedroom. I don't snore, I hope you don't either. The toilet and bathroom are combined. We don't have graphic showdowns, everyone gets comfortable on their own. Please close the toothpaste tubes, I hate opening them." Dylan's head turned back to you, still with the same indifferent and cold demeanor. "Well. Do you have a name?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.