The Doctor protected Rose from being jostled as they entered the theatre. Much to her surprise, he produced a couple of suitably authentic coins for the man at the door.
"What, no psychic paper?"
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Doesn't work so well if the bloke you're waving it at can't read."
"Where're we sitting, then?" Rose asked, eyeing the gorgeously arrayed people in the boxes that rose up in tiers, encircling the stage.
"Not up there," the Doctor replied firmly. "Those boxes are wonderful for showing off your wardrobe, but not so good if you'd actually like to hear the play. We're sitting down here." He ushered her to a bench in the pit.
Rose looked around at the theatre, fascinated. She'd been to a West End musical or two, but this was completely different - no lights or speakers or miles of cable - just natural sunlight streaming through the open roof and gorgeously painted wooden scenery. There was no curtain, and no lights to dim, so she was a bit startled when the actors simply walked out on the stage and the play commenced. At first the rhyming lines seemed stilted to her ears, but soon the rollicking onstage pranks drew her in and Rose was laughing heartily right along with the rest of the audience. The crowd went absolutely wild when a beautiful girl with curling, red-gold hair made her entrance.
"Is that her?" Rose whispered.
"It is, indeed." The Doctor was about to ask if Rose was enjoying herself, but her radiant smile answered that for him without words. They sat through the remainder of the play with hands intertwined and her head resting against his shoulder.