Awake

Being in the theatre, you become used to being awake late into the night, and asleep all (or most) of the day. Unless you are rehearsing, or resting.

I am indulging myself in a little game myself and Jean-Claude used to play, called Diagnosis Life. You look at someone and guess their age, occupation, status. Of course, the advantage here is that I can also add a new pinch to the mix, ailment. Guessing what malady my fellow wardmates have is honing my skills.

Mr Gravis obviously is a scaffolder. His build indicates that. The catheter suggests his diet of junk food, and his pallor is a greyish yellow, indicating...oh, they just put a sheet over him. Bugger.