Midge knows he’s not just indulging her, because he isn’t the type to do that. He’ll tell the truth, even be blunt about it, in most situations. Still, she can’t believe that she’s really impressing him.

“You can call me Midge Oakley from now on,” she says, aiming the rifle again. Quietly, she starts to sing: “Anything you can do, I can do better…”

She fires and the butt of the gun hits her shoulder. “Ow.” She must not have been aiming correctly. At least the bullet manages to sink into one of the rings of the target.