Jamaal had been watching people going to the shooting gallery, and mostly all of them had been having about as much trouble as the most recent girl was. He had been working it out in his head what was up with it while he ate. He watched as the booth owner would always switch up guns on the person even though the guns didn't actually have to be reloaded after every go. Then there was the fact that most all the patrons seemed to do things similar to that blond guy who just went. Pop pop pop. Three quick bursts and the game was over. Sure they all aimed, but they didn't take time to think about it.
He put the last of his "it'll do" sonoran dog in his mouth and got up, heading straight for the booth. He wasn't really the best shot in the world, but he was good at figuring plans out. You had to do that in chess, on the soccer field, and with bullies. It was all a matter of observation and putting your findings to the test.
He put down a dollar on the counter. "Why don't you give it another go, yo," Jamaal advised, and when the guy went to take the gun and swap it out for another one, he continued, "Nah, man. It should still have at least six more shots in it. He's cool." He then motioned for Ambriel to bend down so he could tell him something.