Carnival game-booth guns were always horrible, that was almost a damn requirement, though the fact that a hundred different people shot them every day with very little cleaning and maintenance guaranteed they'd be pieces of shit. Even people with no gun experience could pick that common sense out of the air.
Claire smiled crookedly, but was still impressed that he'd been able to do as well as he had. The barker played up his esteem, but paid extra close attention to Claire- in that way carnies were known for.
"Damn fine shootin'-" he whistled for Rory's benefit, but his eyes were all about the blond next to him- her chest, more often than not. "Tell you what-" he said to her, leaning his hip more on the counter than necessary. "Your round is on me- an'if you do better'n your boyfriend here, I'll give you his prize."