The 16:15 from Syon Lane to Clapham Junction:

The indifference of sleep had made a man of him. He looked intimidating with a fragile veil of detachment, but one which had rendered him so dispossessed of the World. His face was marked with a debased snarl at everything around. His head moved in a sardonic contemptuous mime of the train's movements a sinister, knowing, primeval nod.

Then he dribbled and woke up.