Wash widened his eyes at the little girl dancing. He decided it would be a might rude to interrupt. He didn't know anything about swans nor what it meant when the lady asked her to change. Perhaps it was a type of move or sequence she was supposed to do in contrast to one she had already done.
Wash may have been a bit more educated that some, but culture and ballet had never really been his focuses.
He scooted down the far wall to watch in the light of the cracked curtain. He laid his bag of fruit down slowly as to not make noise. River, the more composed and focused version of her anyway, was making her way through the graceful steps, her form framed by fuzzy velvet from the curtain.
What was that, Wash thought as he saw a red, lumpy, spherical object bumbling its way on the stage. With a gasp of shock he looked at his bag of fruit that was now less one apple.
"Go se!" he exclaimed in a whisper. The apple must have tumbled from the bag when he set it down. It was now making a semi-circular pattern on the stage, wobbling closer and closer to River's feet.
Wash covered his mouth with a soft slap of his hand to his cheeks so he wouldn't utter anything else that would be heard. And though he thought he should probably leave to keep from getting caught, he stayed despite it.