There wasn't much that she personally found merited her time or money where public outings were concerned. The sort of target audience for things like the ability to Google the name of a business and see when it was the least populated. A well-curated flat not that far from the park, having what she needed, and enough avenues of entertainment that it took a certain mood or siren song to pull her out unless work demanded it of her.

 But this was interesting enough as far as she was concerned, just past sunset and the lamp posts that littered the trailer had flickered to life. Crickets making it that much more necessary for the local actors on the small excuse of a stage to project as they went through their lines. Shakespeare in the park, hardly an earth-quaking concept. But it was King John, and that in itself was interesting enough - not one of the usual trifectas of choices the mind tended to naturally veer towards when the classics were mentioned.

 She had arrived early to set up her usual parameters for public events - seated on one of the stone steps with her jacket taking up as much space as she could muster to her left. The right occupied by her bag, not tight to her hip, an attempt to save some buffer of personal cleanliness. A sideways glance to the occasional obnoxious child or couple so green in infatuation that they struggled to keep their goddamn hands to themselves. All to the sounds of King John's exposition - to be young and filled to burst on emotions and hormonal influence.

 Minding her posture as seating became more and more scarce, she trusted in the belief that most people weren't bold enough to ask someone to move. Happier to be inconvenienced than to say a word contrary to even a complete stranger. Giving pause when it felt like someone loomed to her six, chewing her gum thoughtfully for a beat before she tilted to head back to fix them with a blank and expectant expression that implied a dry, brittle, unenthused 'Can I help you?',