She looked overly hopeful at his remark about how he could 'get the hang of this'. "Right? I mean, it's fun. Real golf is...lame. And who has that kind of attention span, let alone the will to wear so many pleated khaki pants in public? Not me. Hopefully not you." She pointed her club up in the air, in his direction. "Unless I've overestimated you."
She'd walked to the next hole area, having collected her ball and put it on the tee. This time the goal was to get your ball through the mouth of a polar bear that was opening and closing its' mouth. Once you got it past his mouth, the ball would roll out behind it, and you had to finish from there. She lined up the shot for the bear, taking some practice half-swings where she didn't connect with the ball. Closing one eye and squinting with the other, she finally swung the club. The ball whooshed obediently right into the polar bear's mouth.
"And that, my doubting friend, is how you do THAT." She was pleased. She'd also called Eliot a friend, which was maybe weird.