Nana noodleman

You're standing outside in the alleyway behind a theater that had a somewhat interesting marquee and show title upon it. The alleyway is actually quite clean and relaxing, muffling the direct noises of the city to a dull roar, though that's soon interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open and then closed again as an exceedingly old sheep woman storms out, produces a cigarette holder, a silver cigarette case, plugging the end of the holder with a fresh cigarette, lights up and takes a long pull before sighing out. The thick cloud escaping from between her lips into the air.

The sheep woman looks agitated and frowns between exhales of smoke she draws from her cigarette. After a third drag she sucks her teeth with an annoyed tsk, "Who do they think they are bringing that limp noodle performance before me? ME! The brightest star of my era and they think they can just show and 'act'? They call that pathetic schlock they performed on MY stage, the stage that I ushered in a golden age of THEATER, and expect me to just GIVE them a part in my next piece? Of all the nerve." she takes an impressively long drag from her cigarette and tapping the ash off the tip as a massive cloud of smoke escapes her lips. She dramatically leans back against the wall with a hand of her forehead, "I swear these so-called performers and actors, these days know nothing about bringing a roll to life." she puts emphasis on the word life as if it was magic, "The theater is headed for a cliff and I can only slow it down so much by picking the least worst of this crop of offal." she speaks as if reading from some overly dramatic Script.