Backstage would suit Lea perfectly if anybody thought to offer. She is 161 cm and petite, quick to laugh and quicker to change a plan, with auburn hair falling in soft waves and hazel eyes that crease up whenever something amuses her, which is often. Early twenties, she dresses like somebody who has read the production notes before arriving: a velvet jacket, something plain underneath it, and one piece of jewellery whose history you will hear in full if you ask about it.
Sweet is accurate and spontaneous is the better half of the description. Plans shift around her, usually for the better, and she is that rare person capable of being genuinely delighted by a bad play. Her English is fluent and entirely unguarded. Interiors are the professional obsession, and she will clock a room before she clocks the people standing in it. Ceramics are what she makes with her hands on a Sunday. Theatre is where the rest of her money reliably goes.
Her Covent Garden evening is built around an early curtain. The Donmar Warehouse on Earlham Street suits her best, two hundred and fifty odd seats with nobody further than four rows from the stage, which she claims ruins a person for anywhere larger. Supper comes afterwards, somewhere in Seven Dials with a kitchen still working, and she will have firm views on the set design well before she gets round to the acting.
Belgravia is home and the run into Covent Garden takes twenty minutes, though the seats are the part that wants warning. Give booking a date and a curtain time, and everything else gets arranged backwards from there.
Her home stage is Belgravia, and she travels from there to the venues this house covers. Her full listing sits with the rest of the company on the companions page.