Begrudgingly, Sirage stays to watch something that she feels captive to instead of captivated by. Her tongue might very well be turning into a harsher shade of green with how she's had to bite it back so many times.
Every so often, she glances over at her host, noting the sparkles of delighted whimsy shining bright in his wide eyes. You'd think the guy's inventing a quintant for actor crushes with how intensely he's gawking at these near-holographic attempts at character writing. Every line is silently mouthed back at the screen.
It was already a little much from the get-go, but just before the quote-unquote "climax" of this "movie" comes to a head, Sirage reaches her limit of adoring squeals.