My first sleeper. They’re the obvious people to draw, I suppose: they keep fairly still, and they’re not perturbed by the stranger opposite, peering intently at their ears.
I’m quite pleased with this, except the poor fellow’s mouth is hopeless. Not quite sure why it was so difficult, but he did keep shifting his head and my perspective kept going off-whack.
He was really tired, poor guy. He was doing that Tube sleep where you come round just enough at each stop to work out that it’s not yours, and then sink straight back into slumber again.
I got off at King’s Cross and left him there, still propped against the glass, dozing away even as a flock of teenage girls came flapping and squawking into the carriage and perched all around him. Hope he felt better by the time he reached his station.