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What was the point of this again?
One act in and Richard couldn't have differentiated one character from another if someone pressed a gun to his temple. If there was a plot to this little spectacle, then it was elusive as a fox, always jumping out of his reach just when Richard thought he finally had an idea of what was going on. Whatever bits of story he happened to catch were quickly swallowed by another wave of ballads.
Why was everybody singing again? For all the trappings of normality the show seemingly had - as much as they blurred together, every character on stage looked like someone he might pass on the street - he couldn't begin to wrap his head around what might cause someone to burst out in song. Imagine doing so in the office or grocery store! Just the idea of doing as much made him want to melt into a puddle on the floor.
Richard's eyes darted from the stage to the two seats to his right. If Mary Anne grinned any wider then she'd tear her cheeks. Her eyes probably hadn't left the stage since they'd first sat down. Dawn was leaning forward in her seat, her face shifting with each passing scene. It was a show unto itself.
Richard leaned back in his chair. If nothing else, their smiles were contagious.