She paused when they passed a shooting arcade. "Richard, you’re FBI, so I guess you’re supposed to be a good shot. Win me a stuffed animal."
Richard groaned. "Those guns are probably all sighted wrong so you can’t win. Couldn’t I just buy you one instead?"
"No, that won’t do at all. Never mind. It’s okay if you don’t think you can do it," she replied with no hint of a smile whatsoever. Would he try to win a prize for her or not?
"Okay, I know a challenge when I hear it." Richard stepped up to the counter and inspected the row of guns provided by the arcade. "I’ll win you an animal if I have to stay here all night."
The attendant, a wizened gnome of a man with a sour expression on his face, wandered over to them as though he was conferring a great honor on them. "Win a prize for the
lady, mister? Dollar a shot."
"Yeah, I’ll give it a try."
He selected the gun he wanted and shot, but he missed. "Just as I expected. The sights are off, and it pulls to the left." He adjusted for the bad sights, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. This time he hit the target dead center.
"Hooray," cheered Elizabeth. "I want that big white cat over there. How many does he have to hit to get it?"
"Ten in a row," the man sourly replied.
A few minutes later Richard and Elizabeth walked away, carrying the big cat with them.
Elizabeth tucked her arm through his and squeezed. "This is so exciting! Nobody ever won anything for me before. You are such a good shot. I bet you’re one of the FBI’s best marksmen." Is he blushing? thought Elizabeth. I bet it’s been a long time since a woman made him blush.