There was absolutely no hyperbole in Diana’s statement. She wasn’t prone to exaggeration, because she didn’t need to be. She also wasn’t prone to violence or wanton destruction, and so the let the idea fall away. She would have to be trapped here a lot longer than two days before she had enough questions to feel it was worth destroying things over. She didn’t really notice Peter’s struggle to contain his questions, and it wouldn’t have bothered her if he’d failed.
Diana remained convinced that her age didn’t actually surprise people because she looked so young, but because she still took enjoyment in small things, got excited over snow and ice cream and fluffy dogs and a million other things, and other similar exuberance. She had opened her mouth to respond about the hard time he’d been having when he interrupted her with his crow about the foosball table, and a bright smile crossed her face as she followed him, taking the opposite side of the table.
She understood a versus match, of course. She wasn’t a fool; it was only that she’d had them on actual fields of battle. She reminded herself again to be careful with this thing before she took hold of the handles as he explained, and she nodded. “Oh, like soccer, but on a table, then?” She asked, and she looked up at him to confirm that that was the right sport she was thinking of. There would’ve been a dash of pinball, too, if Diana had known what that was. She’d seen a few pinball machines, but never played with one, and they had slipped her mind entirely.
“I think I’ll quite like this. Thank you for showing it to me.” She knew she would probably lose, as part of her attention would be on not ripping one of the rods out of the table, but it would still be fun. She’d found that quite a lot of human things were fun, actually.